Thanatopsis
by DeathOfSanity
Summary: Thanatopsis: seeing death. After a near death experience, McGee sees something hard to believe and is having trouble dealing with it. A study of what death means to different people.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Gonna start you off with a little action, hope you like...**

**Thanatopsis **

Chapter One

"McGee pictures, Tony sketch," Gibbs ordered as soon as they scrambled their way down the hill to their new crime scene of the day.

"Uhhh…" McGee cursed under his breath as they reached the bottom.

"What?" Gibbs asked. "What, McGee?"

"I left my camera topside."

"Tony, where's yours?"

"Didn't grab it Boss." He said, smiling. "Figured McGee would be taking the pictures."

The following headslap caused him to squeal.

"Well, McGee," Gibbs said, gesturing upwards. "Go get it."

McGee glared at Tony before turning and heading back up the rather steep incline. He passed Palmer about halfway up. "Look at that, you're actually not late this time. Where's Ducky?"

"Not here," he said, in a strained voice. He was juggling all his equipment and trying not to fall at the same. Unfortunately, Palmer had never been good with hills.

"Yeah, I got that, Palmer. Where is he?"

"He wouldn't tell me." Palmer said. "All he said on the phone was 'personal business, don't be nosy'." He smiled shyly. "But I think I've got it covere—ahh!"

McGee caught his arm, saving him from what would surely have been a painful effect of gravity. "Sure ya do."

"Thanks."

McGee patted him on the shoulder. "Careful on the way down. It's a long way." They continued on their separate ways.

McGee finally made it to the top, panting and sweating from the effort. He stopped, hands on his knees, grateful for forcing himself to take the stairs lately. He stood up, heading for the van, when something appeared in the far left side of this vision. It was a woman. She was dirty and looked nearly dead on her feet.

"Ma'am?" he called out. "Are you okay?"

She continued walking toward him, not acknowledging.

McGee felt weird. He knew something was wrong with the situation, but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He was about to reach for his phone to call Tony and Gibbs when something in the woman's waistband glinted in the sun.

McGee drew his gun, taking aim. "Ma'am, I need you to lower the weapon carefully to the ground."

A noise behind him made him turn. A man was standing to his right, gun trained on McGee. He backed up, attempting to keep them both within his sight when a shot rang out from the woman, hitting the mound of rocks behind his head. He shot her twice in the chest just as he saw a second man jump out from behind some trees.

The first man's shot was true, hitting McGee in the far left side of the chest. He dropped to one knee in pain. He took three shots, hitting the man only once in the head.

The second man fired at McGee, forcing him to duck and roll. McGee shot him from the ground. Blood sprayed from the new wound in the second man's leg. He screamed out in pain and grabbed the wounded limb.

McGee saw the opportunity and jumped up, covering the distance between them. He tackled the man and pinned him down, holding the hand with the gun to the ground, dropping his own in the struggle. The man jerked his gun arm out from under McGee's hand and rolled on top. He tried to aim, but McGee grabbed it as well.

They both struggled to gain the upper hand, for it was clear that the losing prize would be death.

* * *

><p>At the first shot, Tony immediately dropped everything in his hands and took off up the hill, which seemed even steeper in his haste to get to his partner. He heard Gibbs and Palmer right behind him.<p>

Two more shots rang out from above, causing Tony's heart to jump up into his throat.

"Palmer, call an ambulance!" Gibbs called out.

"Okay," he said, and Tony heard less movement as Palmer stopped to use his phone. Gunshots were sounding off in random sequences. "We're coming McGee!" Tony shouted, scrambling up the hill as fast as he could. His foot slipped a little and he had to pause momentarily to regain his footing.

After a few more seconds, the gunfire stopped, The silence began weighing down like a rock in Tony's chest. Please be okay, he begged silently.

Ten feet from the top one last shot pierced the air with a crack.

"McGee!" Tony yelled, drawing his weapon, as he neared the top.

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt. Tony tried to fight against it, not realizing why Gibbs was holding him back.

"Tony, wait." Gibbs said quietly. "Get a look before you go running out there and get yourself killed."

Tony carefully peeked over the edge. There was only stillness. Four people were on the ground. One on each side and two in the middle, one on top of the other. He didn't recognize the ones he could see, so he figured McGee must be on the bottom.

"Clear," Tony said, climbing over the ledge and running to the middle two bodies. No. Not bodies. "McGee," he pleaded, pushing the unknown man carelessly off of his friend. "Please be okay."

The other man was clearly dead, so Tony hoped that the large red stain on McGee's shirt was not his own.

"Palmer!" Gibbs yelled over the edge. "How long?"

"Ambulance will be here in tem minutes," he called back. "Is McGee okay?"

"No. you better get up here."

Tony had found the wound in McGee's chest. "Oh, God. Gibbs!"

"What?" he ran over.

"He's been shot." Tony began putting pressure on the wound.

Gibbs kneeled down and put two fingers to McGee's throat. He then put his ear next to his mouth. He looked up at Tony. "Pulse is slow, but he's breathing okay." He ran back to help Palmer.

The blood was beginning to seep through Tony's fingers. He pushed harder, receiving a groan from the fallen officer. "You with us, buddy?" Tony asked

"Tony?"

"I'm here."

He grunted. "It hurts."

"I know, man, but I gotta keep pressure on it."

Pain was twisting McGee's face and he suddenly let out a cry just a Palmer arrived. He fell to his knees on Tony's left, father away from McGee's head. "Was it a though and though?" he asked, urgently.

"I don't know." Tony answered.

"Close range, it probably was." Palmer was taking off his NCIS jacket. He crumped it up. "Lift him up so I can get this under him."

Tony did what he was told.

Palmer quickly probed for the exit wound. When his fingers came out bloody, he placed his jacket in the right spot and pushed down on McGee's shoulder, causing him to yell again.

A pang of sympathy shot though Tony's heart. "You're gonna be fine, McGee," Tony said. "Palmer's got it covered."

McGee almost smiled. "P—Palmer?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, McGee, Palmer." Palmer said, rolling his eyes. "I do almost have a medical degree, you know."

Tony couldn't help but laugh, as McGee's smile widened.

Gibbs knelt at McGee's other side. "Glad to see you can find some humor in this situation, Tim."

"Thanks, Boss."

Palmer put his hands next to Tony's. "Here, let me," he said. The look in Palmer's eyes told Tony that he knew Tony would rather be comforting McGee, than hurting him.

"Okay, ready. One, two, three." He raised his hands at the same time Palmer put his down.

The sudden change caused McGee to scream. He lifted his hand and grabbed Tony's arm, holding it in a vise grip. It hurt, but Tony gritted his teeth and rode out the pain with his best friend. He put his other hand on McGee's shoulder and felt the muscles straining. His back was attempting to arch in a natural reaction to the pain.

"Hey, buddy, you gotta calm down," Tony said, moving his free hand to McGee's hair, not noticing that it was still sticky with blood. McGee didn't seem to hear him, so Tony gave him a slight headslap, focusing the young man.

"McGee, look at me." Their eyes met. "I know it hurts, but you have to try and relax or you're just gonna make it worse."

McGee nodded slightly. The look of trust in his green orbs let Tony know that he was trying. His grip began to loosen and Tony slipped his arm back to grab McGee's hand.

Their gazes didn't separate even when they heard sirens in the distance and Gibbs left to flag the EMTs down. Tony tried his best to convey as much comfort through their connection as he could and took the tightening and loosening of the grip McGee still had on is hand in stride. McGee was starting to wheeze, and there was a small trickle of blood making its way out of the side of his mouth. Tony wiped it away with his thumb.

"You're doing great, Tim."

"F—First name," McGee managed even though he was choking on his own blood. "Must be ba—ad."

"No," Tony choked out, tears were beginning to fall, and he didn't try to hold them back. "Didn't I say you were gonna be fine?"

McGee smiled. "I…" his eyes rolled up and his grip went limp.

"McGee?" Tony tapped him on the cheek. "McGee! Come on, you gotta stay with me!" There was no response. He looked considerably paler than before with all the blood from Tony's hands on his face. "McGee!"

"Tony!" Gibbs yelled, in a scared voice, running back, followed by the ambulance. "Oh my God," he said, as he saw what was going on. He covered his mouth with his hand.

The paramedics jumped out of their vehicle the second it stopped. They immediately began working on their charge.

Palmer explained to them what had happened and where he had been shot.

Tony felt Gibbs tugging at his jacket, but he refused to leave his partner's side. One of the medics felt McGee's neck. "Weak pulse," she said.

"Come on, Tony," Gibbs said calmly in his ear, coming from out of no where. "You gotta get out of the way."

Tony allowed himself to be lifted up and slowly and reluctantly let go of McGee's hand.

The male paramedic took over for Palmer and in minutes the two managed to get McGee onto the gurney and into the back of the vehicle.

They took off with sirens blaring up the road and they all watched until they couldn't hear them anymore.

TBC

**AN: I've got about three more chapters completed, I want to try and pace them out so I can get more done. I don't want to have long periods of no activity. If you've got any questions, suggestions, criticism, or comments, slip me a line. Love to everybody! **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Just a little comic relief before it gets really dramatic... **

**Thanatopsis **

**Chapter Two**

To Tony, the next few hours felt like a dream. For almost ten minutes after the ambulance disappeared nobody said a word. They all just stared at each other, unsure of what would happen.

Gibbs called Ziva, who immediately cancelled her vacation plans, plans which she had been talking about for the past three weeks straight. She said she would go to the hospital and wait for news. Tony, Gibbs, and Palmer collected as much evidence as they could, while also handing over the previous investigation to another team.

When Gibbs called Abby, a stream of furious shrieks could be heard twenty feet away. Tony watched Gibbs hold the phone away from his ear and figured it would have been funny in another situation.

She demanded all the evidence as soon as possible and ordered Gibbs to figure out what happened. Any other day he would not have tolerated such a thing, but he merely said, "Sure," and snapped the phone shut.

Tony hadn't seen the man so docile since Kate had been killed. Memories threatened to overwhelm him as he fought not to relate the two situations. No use getting distracted when McGee needed him to solve this crime.

Gibbs seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. So much so, that, after they helped Palmer load the bodies into his van, he let Tony drive back to base.

Tony offered to take the evidence to Abby, not completely certain if Gibbs could handle so many questions at the moment. Or talking at all, for that matter.

Abby's eye make-up was running badly as she sat at her desk in the inner lab. She looked lost, terrified, angry, and sad, all at the same time.

He sat the box, stuffed full of anything that even kind of seemed relevant, on her table just as she saw him. Surprisingly, she stood up slowly and walked almost calmly through the door. She was three steps from him when her eyes started overflowing and she practically jumped into his arms.

"Ha—have you heard anything?" she asked into his neck.

"No," he held her tightly. "Ziva says that he's in surgery. Will be for a while."

"Huh huh. Ziva." Abby half-giggled. "I bet she's got half the hospital fearing for their lives right about now."

Tony let himself smile slightly at the image playing out behind his eyelids.

Abby pulled back and looked into Tony's eyes. "Are you alright?" she asked him soberly.

"Yeah, I—"

Palmer walked in. "Abby, I brought—" he stopped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to barge in." He held up some paper bags he had placed cardboard box. "I put my clothes in evidence bags, figured you'd need them to reconstruct the crime scene."

"Thanks, Jimmy." She looked at Tony's clothes. "You should probably do the same thing, Tony."

He finally looked down at himself. His hands and the sleeves of his agency-issued jacket were stained red with blood. There were red handprints on his pants where he had attempted to wipe some of it off. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Here," Palmer said, producing some scrubs that perfectly matched his own from the box. "Figured you'd be needing something until you could get your own clothes."

He was right. Tony had used his spare clothes last week when he fell into a quarry and had forgotten to replace them. "Good call, Palmer. Thanks." He took the green scrubs and the evidence paper bags that Abby handed him and left for the bathroom outside the lab.

He came back a few minutes later. "These are just the right size. Nothing like that one time I had to wear Ducky's jumpsuit. That was—" Abby had Palmer in a constrictor hug in front of the computer terminal. He gave Tony a pleading look. "Abbs, I think Palmer needs to come up for air."

She gave him one last squeeze before letting go.

"You know, I'm really proud of you, Palmer. You stepped up to the plate big time today," Tony said. He slapped him on the back.

He smiled sheepishly.

"What did he do?" Abby asked.

"He totally saved McGee's life. Went all doctor on us."

Palmer said, "I wouldn't say saved his—" but was suddenly cut off by the brick wall that was Abby going in for a second hug. Tony actually saw the assistant M.E.'s lips turn a scary shade of blue.

Tony's phone broke through Palmer's desperate gasps of air, prompting Abby to finally let go. He looked at the screen. "Ziva," he said.

"I thought Timmy wouldn't be out of surgery for a while?" she said. She clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Abbs," he said, while trying to calm his own heartbeat. He flipped the phone open. "Ziva, you're on speaker."

"Tony!" came Ziva's excited voice on the other end of the line. "McGee is out of surgery. They got him stitched up and the doctor said he is asking for you."

Tony nearly dropped the phone in relief. Abby noticed and the grabbed it from him. "Ziva, that's amazing. Tell him I'm sending Tony right now. I'd come too, but I've got to get started on cracking the case." She said goodbye and hung up.

Tony hadn't moved. He was too stunned. Abby, looking happier than ever, shooed him out of her lab.

This time, Gibbs drove. He seemed more focused now that he knew McGee was going to be okay.

Tony held onto the door handle with a death grip as Gibbs went almost forty miles over the speed limit, swerving just in time to avoid a blue impala attempting a death defying stunt of pulling out into the street

Gibbs honked his horn and pressed the accelerator harder.

"Ya know," Tony said, trying to close his eyes but finding himself unable of taking his eyes off the road for even a second. It was like a train wreck. Except in a car. "McGee wouldn't be too happy if I came to see him in a body bag."

Gibbs didn't say anything. Only went faster. When they arrived with a screeching of tires, both Gibbs and Tony jumped out and jogged to the entrance-way.

"Timothy McGee," Gibbs said at the admitting desk.

"Are you family?" the woman asked indifferently.

"No, I'm his boss." Gibbs flashed his badge.

She looked back down at her paper work. "I'm sorry, but—"

Gibbs growled, causing the woman's head to snap back up.

"I'd do what he says if I were you." Tony chimed in with a slight smile on his face. "The last receptionist that denied him information— well, you don't want to know."

She glanced at Tony and then at her computer. "He's on the third floor. Three thirty-two."

Gibbs stalked off, leaving Tony to flash the nurse a charming smile. "You got off lucky. He's usually a lot more aggressive."

**AN: Currently working on chapter five. As soon as I'm done with that I'll have chapter three up. I should be done tomorrow. I also fixed a few minor errors from the first chapter. I'm sure all authors would agree that reviews help with the inspiration. The more you review, the faster I write. All of you who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. Thank you all for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

They met Ziva almost immediately as they exited the elevators. Tony didn't think she ever looked so happy. Not even when she found out he hadn't been blown up with his old car.

She bounced up to them in a very Abby-like way. She answered the silent questions right away. "He is fine. They got him into surgery as soon as he arrived. The doctor said that once they got him to the O.R. it was just a clean and sew job. The bullet didn't hit anything other than muscle and fat tissue."

Tony found that hard to believe. "But what about—"

Ziva interrupted him. "He was definitely in danger of bleeding out, Tony. He nearly did because it took so long to get here. They had to give him four pints of blood. He is very lucky."

"Well, where is he?" Gibbs finally asked.

"Follow me."

Ziva led them to almost the end of a long, quiet hallway, turning left into the second to last door. At seeing McGee sleeping peacefully in his bed, Tony found Ziva's joy to be almost contagious. Although he looked paler than normal, even in comparison to the white sheets he was under, the steady rise and fall of his chest gave Tony comfort.

Gibbs took three long strides to the foot of the bed and picked up the chart hanging there. Tony watched him become more and more frustrated as he read through all the medical jargon. "Dammit." He growled after only a few moments. "Where's Ducky when you need him."

"He wouldn't say," came a mumbled reply from the bed.

"McGee!" Tony and Gibbs said at the same time.

He smiled. "Hey, guys. Where's the party?"

Gibbs stepped around to the right side of the bed and asked, "Are you okay?" he looked at him hard. "Honesty."

McGee didn't back down. "Exhausted. Sleepy." He shrugged. "And a little stoned."

Ziva and Tony giggled. The corners of Gibbs' mouth twitched.

Tony asked, "Is it the good stuff?"

A small laugh escaped McGee's throat as he readjusted his shoulders.

Tony sat down on the bed, pushing McGee's legs to the side. "You know, as much as I hate hospitals, the morphine makes it worth it. When I was a rookie in Peoria…"

Tony talked to McGee for a long time. So long, that eventually Gibbs and Ziva both left. By the time it got dark, McGee had fallen asleep and Tony had moved to the surprisingly comfortable chair to McGee's right.

Abby and Palmer came to visit, but refused to wake the patient up. Abby fussed over him, fixing his covers and actually fluffing his pillow. She pulled up one of the plastic chairs on the opposite side of where Tony had stayed reclined during the visit. She rested her chin in her hand and stroked his hair, never taking her eyes off of him.

Palmer picked up the chart and mentioned something about 'the good stuff,' causing Tony to snicker as he hay with his hands behind his head. "So you ever find out where Ducky was?" Tony asked

Palmer shrugged. "Just visiting a friend. Abby was the one who made him talk."

Abby gave a smile, but didn't look up. It was odd how quiet she was being.

"Abbs?" Tony asked.

No response.

"Abby!" he said, only slightly louder.

She tore her eyes away from McGee's face and Tony could see a fury behind her eyes like he had never seen before. "What?" she asked, scary calm.

"Did you and Ziva switch bodies after Gibbs and I left HQ earlier? Because you sure are acting like each other."

Abby seemed to calm a little at the jibe. "I'm sorry, Tony." She gave him a soft smile. "I've just been so worried all day and it took me a long time to get through the evidence."

"Are you sure that's all, because I can see you planning some sort of torturous revenge on whoever planned this situation. All you really need now is the creepy accent."

"Yeah and some high-heeled, leather boots," Palmer spoke up from behind the chart. A second later, Tony saw his eyes widen. He looked around nervously. "Umm… Did I just say that out loud?"

* * *

><p>After a while, Abby and Palmer left. Tony promised them that he would get some sleep later, but he just wasn't ready to leave yet. Although, to be honest, he had no intention of leaving.<p>

Today had been a close one. It wasn't as if Tony hadn't lost partners before, and he knew it could have all turned out so much worse. But the real reason he didn't want to leave wasn't to watch over him. Tony knew he was well taken care of. As stupid as it may seem, he felt guilty for what had happened. No, he had not planned the attack, or pulled the trigger, but… well…. Sure when Tim was a probie Tony teased him constantly and made him do all the heavy lifting, but that was to make him a better man, a stronger man. A stronger person. But Tony knew now that McGee didn't need that kind of thing anymore. So why did he have to do it today.

A small prickling on the back of his neck told Tony he was being watched. He looked over at the only other occupant in the room.

Even though it was somewhat dark, Tony knew Tim's eyes were open because of the reflection of the dim light behind Tony shone in them.

Tony sat up slowly and asked, "How long have you been awake?"

He appeared to tilt his head in Tony's direction. "Long enough to know that you mumble to yourself. And you feel guilty about what happened."

Perceptive, this one, Tony thought. "You know it's rude to watch someone without them knowing it."

McGee gave a quiet bark of laughter. "Tony, we watch people without them knowing it all the time."

"Stakeouts are government sanctioned and perfectly within reason. Where's your warrant."

Tim looked back up at the ceiling. "It's not your fault, Tony. You didn't want this to happen."

Tony lay back down, looking straight up as well. They both sat in silence for a moment.

Suddenly, Tony couldn't hold it in anymore. "I had my camera with me," he blurted out, making McGee jump. He brought his hands together and began picking at his nails. "I was just being an ass. I mean, you're not a probie anymore, and I know I shouldn't act like that, and—"

"Tony," McGee said softly, but forcefully. Tony sat up slowly and met his gaze. McGee took a moment to continue, like he was trying to think it through. "Okay… maybe I'm a little mad that you made me climb all the way back up that _sheer drop_, but…" he took a deep breath. "This is not your fault." He looked at Tony in a very Gibbs-like way. "If it was me they were after, they would have found a way. If they were just looking for a random victim… well, what if they had gotten Palmer? They missed him by seconds you know. We should just feel good that everything turned out the way it did. I'm fine, they're dead. We'll figure out what happened."

Tony took in what his partner had said. He was the smart one after all, and Tony was glad. He was glad that McGee always knew what to say. How he could say so few words and have them mean so much. He wasn't completely absolved of his guilt, but he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

Tony got up and went to sit next to McGee on the bed. "I'm glad you're alive, Tim."

A few minutes of silence, then, "Tony?" McGee asked.

"Yeah?"

"What if I told you that…" he paused, "that I think I did die?"

"I'd say you've watched too many episodes of Touched by an Angel."

"Tony." McGee sounded slightly annoyed.

"What?"

"I'm trying to tell you something here."

"Right. I'm sorry. Why do you think you died?"

"Because it was too real to have been a dream."

Tony paused. "What was too real?"

"I—" his eyes shot from his feet, to the ceiling, and then back to Tony. "I saw the future."

Tony was at a loss for words. "You—wait—what?"

Tim now seemed completely unsure of himself. "Well it's not like somebody told me it was the future, and you weren't older or anything. I just—knew."

I wasn't—wait. Me? "What—you saw my future?"

McGee nodded, looking at his hands. Tony studied him, trying to figure out if he was serious. Tim wasn't looking at him and his hands were noticeably shaking. He could see a slight flush to his cheeks that made it look like Tim regretted saying anything at all.

"Tim?" he said.

The use of McGee's first name caused him to look up in some surprise. "Yeah?"

"What did you see?"

McGee still looked uncomfortable, but he started anyway. "Just don't look at me like I'm crazy, okay." He gave Tony a small smile as if to say 'if you can.' "We—I think we were chasing a suspect. I couldn't see him at first, but you were in front and we had our guns drawn. At some point we caught up to him and he turned and pointed a gun at us. You—you tried to talk him down, but," McGee's voice shook and he started wringing his hands. "I think he was high. His eyes were really shifty and he kept twitching. I was really scared because I knew he couldn't be reasoned with and he was liable to fire at any moment."

Tony watched as a single tear made it's was down McGee's cheek. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but Tim gave him a desperate look, that said he needed to finish.

Wiping the tear from where it was threatening to drip from his jaw, he continued in a heavy voice, head down. "You had his attention, so I started moving around him to the other side, but he saw me and started screaming. It was very pulp fiction," he said without a trace of humor. "He was aiming at me, but you came and stood in the way, made him focus on you. I was kind of frozen, I couldn't think. But you—you almost had him giving you the gun, but then he saw Gibbs coming up from behind us and he flipped. Too many people all at once. He just started shooting. At anything and everything... but the only one he hit was you. Gibbs took him out, but it was… it was too late."

He looked back up into Tony's eyes, just as the tears were starting to break free. "You were dead."

**AN: So, what do you think. There are a few reveals in this chapter, but for the most part it will be pretty slow-paced until chapter five. Currently working on chapter six, but I probably won't update until the day after tomorrow. I need some room to fall back on for the weekdays. Constructive criticism is welcome. Love to all who have reviewed so far, and a little bit extra to those of you have added me to their favorite authors lists.**


	4. Chapter 4

Tony was in shock. He and McGee stared at each other for a long while. The tears continued to fall and he was looking at Tony as if he was pleading with him to understand. That he believe him. Tony could see the haunted look in his eyes. He had seen that look before, from people who had seen too much.

He wasn't completely sure of what to say. What Tim was telling him was impossible. Yet everything that he'd ever heard about near death experiences was flying through his mind. He had heard many odd things. But seeing the future?

"Are… are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"

McGee's face fell. "Tony I—I wouldn't lie about something like this."

"No. No, that's not what I said. I—"

Tim was starting to shut off. The tears stopped and he looked away. Pretty much anywhere but at Tony.

Tony rubbed his forehead. Guilty could not begin to express what he was feeling. "McGee. You have to understand how difficult this is to believe."

McGee wiped his face but didn't look up. He looked sincerely hurt.

"McGee, look…. I'm sorry." Nothing. "Tim, look at me," he said, forcefully.

He did.

"I'm sorry. Look, if… if you believe it, then so do I"

He didn't lose his guarded look. "Tony, I know you're just saying that."

"No, I'm not," he said firmly. "If you say that's what you saw, then I believe you. That's what friends are for."

His expression softened and he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, we're friends now, are we?"

"Of course we are."

"Yeah, and it just took me almost dying to get you to admit it." He had a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Tony smiled back. "We've always been friends."

McGee looked at him skeptically.

"Alright, maybe not at first." He sighed. "Just because it might have taken a while, doesn't mean that it's any less real."

Tim nodded, looking happier than before. But then it changed suddenly back to worry. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

"About what, your 'premonition?'" Tony was trying to be open minded, but still found it hard putting a word to it. "Well, we'll just have to be very careful round the crack heads, won't we?" he was trying to lighten the situation. It didn't work.

"Yeah. I guess." McGee still seemed concerned. His brow was furrowed, accentuating the worry lines, and he was biting at the dry skin on his lip.

This had gone on far enough. Tony put his hand on McGee's arm and stood up. "Tim, you need to sleep."

McGee looked at him as if he had forgotten where he was.

Tony found the controls and leaned the bed back, causing McGee to wince at the adjustment as it jostled his wound. "Sorry, man."

"It's okay," he said, stiffly. He relaxed as Tony pulled the sheet up over his chest. "Thanks, Mom." He smiled.

"Ha ha. Now get your ass to sleep. I've had enough of this serious talk for one day. Sweetheart."

Tim chuckled. His eyes were already beginning to close, reminding Tony of a child being put to sleep. He snuggled into the pillow and Tony watched him until his breathing evened out. He ran his hand over McGee's hair. He stood there just wanting to be in contact with him. He couldn't stop thinking that he had come so close to never being able to do it again.

Tony went back to his chair and scooted it right up to the bed and lay down, sticking his feet up onto the bed, feeling more at ease by the connection. He placed his hands behind his head and prepared himself for a night of some serious insomnia. What McGee had said had given him a lot to think about.

Could Tim have really predicted Tony's death? Just the thought was ridiculous. Tony didn't believe in that kind of stuff. At all. Abby, maybe. Ziva, beyond doubt. Tim? Definitely not. He and Tony were similar in a lot of respects, including views about the supernatural. But now? He could tell that the rational side of McGee didn't want to believe it. He was just trying to get someone to tell him he wasn't crazy.

However, if that was the case, he would have told Ziva. She had told them about being open to things that people necessarily wouldn't understand when they were investigating on the Chimera. She would have believed him without batting an eye. But he told Tony. Of course, the—what was he supposed to call it—vision was about him.

'But it was too late. You were dead.' The words rang in his head, growing in volume all the time. McGee had been so upset. So scared. Tony looked up into his face. He was sleeping peacefully. His eyes were moving around excitedly behind the lids as he dreamt. Hopefully something less chilling than what he had seen before. Tony always figured he was the only one never to be seriously injured because he deserved it the least. He was the kindest, smartest, most caring person Tony knew. Why couldn't it have happened to him? If anybody deserved this it would be Tony. He sure as hell wasn't worthy enough to have such an amazing friend like Tim. If anything ever….

He spoke quietly. "I promise you, Tim, I'm gonna be a better friend. I'm gonna make sure that there are no more doubts about that." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Tim." He smiled. "And, yes, I know how that sounds, but I mean it. I don't think I could live without my best friend."

Tony readjusted on the chair, wishing he could make himself say all that to his partner's face. But whether he could say it or not, he intended on showing it. He didn't want McGee to ever be unsure about their friendship again.

* * *

><p>McGee was getting tired of this. Two weeks after he almost died and one week back on the job-desk duty, of course-and the team had already gotten two cases. Sure he got to help with all the technical and computer work, but that didn't stop them from leaving him to his own devices while they went into the field. He had gone down to Abby's lab once, but when she had nothing to do, the music went up and the weirdness came out. As much as he loved that side of Abby, it was a bit much to handle all the time.<p>

The newest case started to the day before, and the team was out in the field interviewing potential suspects. They had worked his case, but when no new leads came up, Director Vance put it on the backburner.

The people who had tried to kill him were mercenaries for hire. Thankfully, they weren't professional killers, or he wouldn't have stood a chance. The trouble was not knowing who had hired them. They couldn't figure out who would want him dead. That is, if it was him they were after.

McGee sat back in his chair carefully, the wound was still sore. He had already searched everything that he could think of. Past cases where he was primarily involved in the arrest. Terrorist cells, anyone with a vengeance against the agency or the team. He had come up with nothing. There was just no way to connect the mercenaries with an employer. They were too good.

But that wasn't what really concerned him. Tony said he believed him, but McGee knew better. Tony was just trying to placate him so he would go back to sleep, because he was hurt. McGee understood, of course, he would have done the same thing. He knew that Tony cared, but the fact was they hadn't talked about it again since that night. He avoided it like the plague, and for Tony that was saying something. McGee knew it sounded crazy. He had a hard time believing it himself, but he couldn't deny what he saw. Seeing Tony die…. He imagined it was exactly what Tony had seen when he was lying on the ground next to that cliff.

He had tried to talk to Abby, after all, she would know about that kind of stuff. But each time he tried, the words just wouldn't come out. She had that expectant look in her eyes, and he knew that she would believe him just on principal. He didn't think he could take that. Ziva was also an option, but that wouldn't do either. She would try to explore it, and when Ziva got interested in something, she would grab on like a pit bull and shake it until it was dead.

And then there was Gibbs. He would listen with empathy, but that would be about it. Gibbs cared about everyone on his team, but he could offer little more than a few consoling words and a pat on the back. He was more of a protector than a talker. Of course, it was just that about him that would soon get Tony killed. Assuming that what he saw was the future, and not just some stupid dream that made him look like an idiot.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, placing his forehead in his hands. He hadn't slept well in days. The vision just wouldn't leave his mind. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Tony lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. He stood up suddenly, unable to take it anymore. He had to get out of here. He grabbed his gun and badge, ill-used as of late, and headed quickly toward the elevators, only to run head long into Palmer, heading the other way.

McGee cried out and grabbed his chest, doubling over.

"Oh my God, McGee. I'm so sorry." Palmer said, frantically. "Are you okay?" He helped McGee to stand up, and held him upright, while he caught his breath.

McGee nodded. "What are you doing up here?" he asked, probably harsher than he should have.

"Just dropping off a report. Are you sure you're okay? Just let me—" he reached up to check the wound.

"No!" McGee said loudly. He looked up at Palmer and his wide eyes. "I… I have to go."

* * *

><p>Jimmy watched as McGee sped off. He looked really upset about something. Palmer stood where he was for a moment, staring to where the agent had disappeared down the stairs, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. People walked around, unaware of what had just happened. He knew something was wrong with McGee, not on the outside, but on the inside. From what Palmer had seen, he had been acting strange all week. Something was bothering him, he just didn't know what.<p>

Somebody suddenly bumped Palmer in the shoulder, dragging him out of his reverie. With a quick "Sorry," they disappeared like a flash. Palmer went to deliver his report to Director Vance. When he was done, he made a call.

* * *

><p>"When was the last time you saw, your husband?" Ziva was asking the tear stricken wife of their victim.<p>

Tony's phone suddenly broke through the silence, and they all jumped. Tony quickly looked at the screen. Palmer? He stood up. "Excuse me for a minute." He walked out of the living room, and answered the phone. "This better be good, Palmer," he said in a semi-threatening tone.'

He wasn't phased. "Tony, it's McGee."

"What? Is he—"

"He's fine. Physically. But I think something's bothering him. I'm worried."

Tony sighed. He expected something like this. "Where is he?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. He just ran off."

"Off the base?"

"Yes."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. I'll find him."

**AN: Well, there you go. Chapter four. I've been neglecting the story as of late bacause of college and halloween, but I am currently working on chapter six. R&R. Happy Halloween! (Yesterday, where I am, but I think I'll survive. Will you?)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Five**

McGee didn't know where he was going; he just drove, not caring whether he would be missed at work. He couldn't stand that place. He just felt so cooped up. No. Crowded. Scrutinized. He could feel people watching him. Not just the team, but everyone. Many had come up to him and congratulated him on not being dead. Not in so many words, of course. He felt he would have been able to handle it better if he didn't have to stay there all the time. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed in the field for another week, that is if Ducky gave him the seal of approval.

His phone rang. Tony. He pressed the reject button. He didn't feel like explaining where he'd gone. The last thing he needed right now was a bunch of demanding questions. He drove on.

He was making his way through the outskirts of the city, still within range of the skylights, but far enough away so that he wasn't bothered by traffic. The sun was high in the sky and he opened the sunroof in an attempt to clear his mind. The phone rang again. God, couldn't they just leave him alone.

He was still looking down at the phone when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal crunching against metal. He looked up and had to stop short, coming to a halt only ten feet from the scene in front of him.

He stared in astonishment for a moment. It was an awful sight. Two cars, a Mustang and what looked like a Malibu had collided in an intersection. It looked like the Mustang that he had been following crashed into the Malibu as it ran the stop sign perpendicular to the road McGee was on. The Malibu had spun almost 360 degrees and come to a standstill in the middle of the road.

He shook off the shock and jumped out of his car, grabbing his phone from where it had fallen to the floorboard, and running to the crash site. He yelled into the phone to the 911 operator, "There's been an accident on the corner of Y Street and Denver. Two cars involved, unknown injuries. Send two busses."

He reached the Mustang. There was only one man inside, mid-thirties, by the looks of him. He had a trickle of blood running down from his hairline and a dazed expression on his face. "Sir, are you okay?" McGee asked, reaching in and touching his arm.

The man looked up at him, confusedly.

"Sir, I'm a Federal Agent. Are you injured?"

"No. I'm- I'm fine. Go- check the other car."

"Helps on the way." McGee ran off. The street seemed to be nearly deserted. Only a few people had come to gawk. He pointed back to the Mustang and yelled, "Someone go keep an eye on him."

He finally made it to the Malibu. The front end of the passenger's side was completely caved in. All the glass appeared to have shattered in the windows. The hood had crumpled and was standing open, obstructing his view of the driver. He ran around to the other side, to find a horrific image. A young girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty-one, sat in the driver's seat. She was gasping for air and pulling at her seatbelt. Some shards of glass were poking out of her right side, and, from what he could see, a rather large one right about where her lung would be. She looked up at him, desperately. "Help me." It came out as barely a whisper.

McGee went for the door handle. It took about ten seconds and a lot of pulling, but he finally got it open. He gently unhooked her seatbelt as she weakly grabbed at his arm. He didn't know if he should pull her out or not, but her eyes were pleading with him to help her. "I don't- I don't think I should move you."

"Please," she mouthed.

McGee took a deep breath and nodded. He put his arm around her small back and began to pull her out, grabbing her knees along the way. He carried her easily away from the car and knelt down so he could hold her in his arms. He was familiar enough with impalements to know not to remove the object.

There was nothing he could do to help her.

Her breathing was coming in short gasps, and she continued to stare into his eyes, almost in wonder. She was trying to say something. He leaned in so he could hear better. "Tell… my mom…. I'm sorry. And- and that I love her." Tears sprung to his eyes, and he looked down to see hers fill up as well.

He nodded again. "I promise."

They continued to stare at each other, until she finally just stopped breathing. He gasped, breathing for the first time in what seemed like hours. Right at that moment, he heard sirens coming from a long way away. He tried to bite back a sob, but he couldn't hold it in.

"Am I dead?" said a small, scared voice to McGee's right. He looked up and gawked at the sight. The girl- the one he was still holding onto- was standing beside him. He stared in amazement. She was wearing the same bloodstained clothes, but the glass was gone. Her face was covered in blood from the wound on her scalp and her hair was messed up, just like it was on the body. She looked at the scene around her and then back down to herself. She didn't even kind of register that he couldn't speak. She looked into his eyes. "Can you see me?"

He forced his mouth closed and nodded.

"Am I dead?" she asked again.

McGee opened his lips, "I think so."

The girl took a shaky breath. She gave him a partly hysterical look. "What are you, psychic?"

The shock of her question sent him reeling. Could that be true? "I don't know."

She was obviously fighting off tears. She looked up to the sky. "It's not fair," she said quietly, to the air.

McGee didn't know what to say. "What's your name?" he finally managed.

She looked back at him. "Dianne."

"Dianne." He took a calming breath. "That's pretty."

Her eyes began to pour out tears, and she fell to her knees. She looked at her body with pain all over her face. "Why me?" she asked. She wasn't talking to him.

"Dianne?" he had to say something. "It's going to be alright. You're- you're going home."

She seemed to calm a little. She looked back up at him. "It's funny," she began, "everybody I've ever known used to be able to picture themselves growing up, having a family, going to college." Her brow creased as her eyes welled up again. "But I never could." She hiccupped." I guess I know why now." She suddenly gasped, looking back up to the sky. He looked up too. There was nothing there.

"What are you looking at?"

She looked at him again and smiled. She stood up. All the blood and gore disappeared, her hair was blowing in nonexistent wind. "Home."

A light began to form within her. "Wait."

She gave him a knowing look. "Everything's going to be alright. You'll see."

The light abruptly grew too bright for him to see and he turned away, hiding his eyes. When it disappeared he looked back.

She was gone. He stared at where she had been standing a moment before, unable to think. All of a sudden, the scene around him was being swarmed by EMTs and first responders. One of them came over to him and checked the Dianne's pulse.

"She's gone, sir," he said gently. "Are you hurt?"

McGee stared the man in the eyes, incapable of responding.

"Sir," he said a little more forcefully. "Were you in the crash?"

McGee shook his head no.

The man reached out for Dianne's body and took her from his arms, carrying her away to a stretcher. Then he returned for McGee. "Sir, are you sure you're okay? Is there anybody you need me to call?" he said as he lifted McGee to his feet and walked him over to the ambulance.

"No," he said quietly as the medic sat him down on the back and began checking him over.

He found the gun and badge and looked McGee in the face. "Are you a cop?'

"Federal Agent."

"Did you call us?"

"Yes." He was still staring over at where he had last seen the girl.

The EMT got into his line of sight. "You're in shock," he explained. "I can't let you leave by yourself. Somebody needs to come and get you."

McGee took a steadying breath. "I'll call someone."

The man nodded. "Don't leave until you tell me."

"Okay."

The other ambulance was driving away as the medic went to talk to his partner.

McGee drew his phone out from his pocket and hit the speed dial for number two.

* * *

><p>Tony had been driving around for almost an hour looking for McGee. His apartment was empty. Tony was surprised to find how dirty it was; it was normally so clean and organized. The typewriter was out of place and there were papers everywhere. There was old food on the counter, giving off an awful smell. Books and dirty clothes littered the floor of the bedroom. Apparently McGee had been worse off than he thought.<p>

After the apartment, Tony went to McGee's coffee shop, but no one had seen him since the morning before. He was sitting in his car, trying to figure out where to go next when his phone rang, making Tony flinch. The caller id said McGee.

He answered quickly, "McGee. Where the hell have you been? You can't just disappear like that."

"Tony?" he sounded uncertain.

"Tim, what's wrong? Are you drunk?" It was the middle of the day.

"I- can you come get me?" he said quietly.

That was worrying. "Of course I will. Where are you at?"

"Ummm," he said shakily. "It's Y Street and Denver."

There weren't any bars around there. Especially not one that would be open at eleven am. Tony started his car and put the phone on speaker. "I'm coming, McGee? Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"I'm…. I'm sure, Tony. Just hurry up." He hung up the phone.

"Dammit." Tony pressed harder on the accelerator.

He saw the lights from five blocks away. Oh, no.

He skidded to a halt, threw the car in park, and jumped out, heading to the cop setting up the barricades. "I'm here for Special Agent McGee," he said, holding up his badge.

"Was he involved in the accident," the officer asked placatingly.

Tony's heart sprang up his throat. "What- I- he just told me to come get him."

"He called you?"

"Yeah," Tony was trying not to freak out.

"It's okay. Your friend is just a witness." The officer pointed towards the ambulance. The back was facing away from them. "The medic said he's in shock. That little girl died in his arms. Said he was still holding on to her body when they arrived.

"Aw, shit." He went around the barricades. "Thanks, man," he called over his shoulder.

He made his way around the ambulance. "McGee?" he definitely looked worse for wear. There was blood all over the front of his shirt and down his arms. He was staring blankly into space. "McGee, hey."

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind Tony. He turned around. A paramedic was standing there.

"Are you Tony?"

"Yes. Special Agent Tony DiNozzo."

The man smiled. "Good. I guess you're his partner. All I could get from him was the first name."

"Is he okay?" Tony said quietly, taking a step away from McGee.

"He's fine. He wasn't involved in the crash."

Tony nodded. "The girl?"

The medic's face went grim. "According to the other witnesses, she was still alive when he got to her. He pulled her out and held her until we got here. She didn't make it."

Tony sighed and closed his eyes tight. What was it with McGee and the fucking traumatic events lately?

The medic took a step closer to Tony. "They also said... he was talking to himself. Well— not himself, someone who wasn't there."

Tony was confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked uncomfortable. "There was nobody there. He was talking to somebody that no one else could see."

**AN: I'm really proud of this chapter. And believe me, it was very hard to write. Hope you liked it. Working on chapter seven right now. Review if you can and critique if you must. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Six**

McGee woke up to find himself in a strange bed. He sat up quickly and looked around. It was nearly dark outside; only a few streams of daylight made their way through the open blinds, and the lights were off, making it harder to see. He sat up and squinted at the blankets covering his body. They were thick and warm. He felt very comfortable.

How did he get here? he thought. He pulled the blankets off and put his bare feet on the carpeted floor. And then it came back to him. The crash. Dianne. Everything after that was a little fuzzy, but he distinctly remembered a familiar presence. Wait….

He looked closer at the room he was in. Slightly disheveled, clothes and DVDs on the dresser and nightstand. And at the foot of the bed, mounted on the wall, a 50' plasma screen TV. He knew where he was. "Tony," he called out. He could hear the television playing quietly through the open door. It was quickly overrun by loud footsteps coming down the hallway.

Tony came through the door and turned the light on, causing McGee to shield his eyes. "Well finally, you're awake. I was about to come get you. Pizza's on the way."

McGee stood up. He was starving after all, and he was pretty sure he hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. He looked down at himself. He was also pretty sure he wasn't wearing sweats this morning either. "Tony?" he said, stopping him as he was about to walk back out the door. "Did you change my clothes?" He pulled at the gray sweatshirt with a big NCIS emblem imprinted on the front.

Tony grinned. "Don't worry, Probie. I preserved your innocence." He went back to the living room.

McGee couldn't help but laugh as he followed. He went and sat down on the couch and glanced at what was playing on the TV. Hugh Jackman, Haley Barry. It looked so familiar. "You're not still taking those painkillers, are you?" Tony said as he rummaged around in the kitchen.

"No, not since I got out of the hospital."

Tony walked in and caught him giving the movie and confused frown. "Oh, please don't tell me you've never seen Swordfish." He handed McGee a beer and sat down next to him.

That sounded right. "It looks familiar."

"Yeah that's what I thought. You want to start it over?"

"No, that's okay." McGee smiled and sat back, taking a sip of beer. After everything that had happened, this felt good. He was more rested than he had been in days. The only problem he was having was remembering how he had gotten to this point. And into Tony's bed.

"So what—"

A knock sounded at the door.

Tony held up a finger. "Hold that thought." He patted McGee on the knee and stood up.

The movie lasted another hour. Apparently he had seen it before, a long time ago. They talked and laughed as they ate and drank. The perfect guys night, and exactly what McGee needed. The credits were rolling when he McGee finally got back to what he was going to ask.

"So how did I get here again?" he asked, setting down his third beer on the coffee table amidst the mess of discarded pizza crusts and more empty bottles.

Tony took one last drink before answering. Then he looked at McGee. "You don't remember?"

McGee thought back. "I remember leaving NCIS, driving. You were calling me. I didn't want to talk." He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the memories. "The second time you called, I looked up just in time to not crash into the back of the car I was following. And then…"

He looked at Tony. Was he sure he wanted to go through this again?

Tony put his hand on McGee's shoulder. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Suppose this goes along with the other crazy thing I told him. "The girl. When I got there she was practically dead, clinging to life. She managed to get a few words out before she– passed." He took a steadying breath. Tony squeezed his shoulder. "She said to tell her mom she was sorry, and that she loved her."

"Man, I'm sorry."

"That's not all, Tony." Tony narrowed his eyes. McGee had to work up the courage to get the next part out. "I think something happened to me when I was shot that day."

"McGee…"

"Tony, just listen. I'm not doped up on morphine this time. I'm completely lucid." He managed not to break eye contact. "I think my brush with death gave me a kind of insight. Something most people don't get."

"Clearly you've been thinking about this."

"Well, only a little. My mind was just trying to figure out what I had seen and it came up with the most logical explanation." He shifted in his seat. "Quite honestly, I hadn't put that much thought into it. Until today." He continued to stare into Tony's eyes. Tony seemed to have forgotten the beer he still held his beer or the fact that his hand had moved up to McGee's neck and stayed there. McGee felt better knowing that Tony really cared what he had to say.

"Her name was Dianne. She told me that."

"But I thought she only said sorry."

"She did. But that was before she died."

Tony clearly wasn't getting it. So McGee gave it to him straight up. "I saw her ghost, Tony. Or, whatever she was." Yet again, Tony was looking at him like he had lost his mind. McGee calmly explained, "_Something _happened to me when I was shot. Believe me, I know how this sounds."

"If you say 'I see dead people,' I'm going to have a stroke."

That caught McGee off guard. He started laughing, almost hysterically. Tony smiled as well. McGee didn't make it very long, his injured chest wasn't exactly in good shape. Well this was definitely easier the second time around. "So you believe me?"

"This feels awful familiar." Tony said, giving a slight chuckle.

"What do you mean?" McGee asked.

"Me sitting at your bedside—"

"But we're on a couch."

"—listening to you tell me you saw something… impossible."

"I know it seems impossible, Tony, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Tony sighed and looked at McGee as if he was trying to figure something out. "You know, I've been thinking about all of this. I didn't know whether to believe you or not. But then I realized…. If I had told you the same thing you told me, no matter how crazy it sounded, you would have believed me in an instant. That's just the way that you are."

"I think you're giving me a little more credit than I deserve." McGee began to object, but was cut off.

"I don't think so." Tony sighed. "I don't know if you're crazy, or if the most unbelievable thing actually did happen, but you wouldn't have told me unless you thought it was real." He patted McGee on the back and sat back against the back of his couch. "Yeah, I believe you. If you've lost your mind, then I don't think there's any hope for the rest of us. Might as well jump on the crazy train."

McGee sat back as well; he couldn't keep the smile off his face. The rest of the night was spent watching a few more movies and getting just a little too tipsy.

* * *

><p>"So, Ducky, what do you say?" McGee asked as he pulled on his shirt in the cold autopsy suite.<p>

"Well, my boy, you're all healed up." Ducky picked up the return to duty form from the autopsy table and looked thoughtfully at McGee. He tapped the clipboard against McGee's chest. "You must promise me that you will not get shot again. Ever."

McGee grinned. "Believe me, I'm gonna try as hard as I can."

Ducky glared at him longer than he would have liked, and McGee gave him a pleading look in return. Ducky squinted his eyes one last time, then stepped away and signed the form.

McGee was smiling from ear to ear as he took the paper out of Ducky's hand.

"Good luck," Ducky said halfheartedly as McGee turned to leave.

McGee took a few steps and then stopped and turned around. Something sounded off. "Duck, you okay?" McGee asked, ignoring the doors as they slid open to let him leave.

Ducky glanced back at McGee from his desk. "What do you mean?"

"You sound…. You just don't sound like yourself." He thought about it. He couldn't believe he hadn't read more into it before. "And you haven't been around as much lately. Is something going on?"

Ducky hid it well, but Tim could see something in his eyes that gave it away. He seemed… distant, detached. Now that he thought about it, McGee hadn't heard a story in days. As far as he could tell, considering McGee hadn't been to a crime scene in three weeks, Gibbs hadn't had to tell him to get to the point in quite a while. It wasn't Gibbs' fault, the caseload had been rough for quite a while.

Ducky, at first, looked like he was going to deny everything, but then appeared to change his mind. He sat down in his chair, looking older than McGee had ever seen him. He took a deep breath. "A friend of mine, Daniel,... he's been sick for a while. Cancer. But these past few weeks, he's gotten worse."

"I'm sorry."

"It is not your job to apologize, lad." Ducky looked down. "It's nobody's job," he said dejectedly. Then he sat up straight. "Do not worry about it, Timothy. You are too young to be worrying about an old man's woes."

"That's not true, Ducky. You're a friend; a good friend." McGee put his hand on Ducky's shoulder. "If you ever need anything, just ask."

**AN: Working on chapter eight. Read and Review. Please:)**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I've noticed and it has been brought to my attention that there might be something between Tim and Tony. If slash is your thing, then this can be viewed as a pre-slash. Even though I do like the idea, I just don't think it will fit into this story. Too much other stuff going on. As for the future…. I don't have anything planned, but I will be thinking about it.**

**By the way, sorry chapter six was short, but I hope that this one makes up.**

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Seven**

The crime scene today wasn't anything special, compared to their everyday. Single victim, male, mid-thirties. He had been shot in the side of the head at point blank range, according to the powder burns. As Tony looked closer, he noticed something in the hair of the victim. A tiny blue fiber barely holding on amongst the short brown hairs. "Hey Ziva," he sat back on his feet.

She turned around from where she was taking pictures of the high velocity blood spatter on the wall on the other side of the body next to the window that looked out into the back yard. "Yes?"

"You got any tweezers on you?"

She handed hers over. "Did you find something?" she asked, leaning down.

He picked up the fiber and held it up for her to see. "Maybe."

"Hm," Ziva said reaching in her bag for a small plastic evidence jar. She held it out to him and screwed the jar closed after he put it in, then handed it to him to sign. "So, what do you think happened?" she asked him.

Tony took a look around. "Well, it looks like he fell where he was shot." He said pointing to the large pool of blood that had formed around the man's head and nowhere else.

Ziva nodded. "Yes, he was not moved."

Tony stood up and looked behind him. "The shoot must have been standing here in the doorway."

Ziva stepped up beside him. "There is a little back spatter on the doorframe." She took a picture. "The suspect must have some of the victim's blood on his clothes and possibly on the weapon as well. Where is it?" she searched the floor with her eyes.

"First responder's didn't find one."

Gibbs chose that moment to walk in. "Guess he took it with him."

"Hey, Boss. Ziva and I were just discussing what we thought happened here."

"Yeah, well if you wanna be done by lunch, I would suggest waiting until we get back."

That kicked Tony into gear. He went back to his bag to get his sketchpad. "God, Ziva. What are you trying to kill me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I would like to." She took a step in his direction, only to be stopped by Gibbs' hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think I want to know," McGee said as he walked in, followed by Palmer, who knelt down beside the body and started rummaging through his bag.

Gibbs looked at him questioningly. "Where's Ducky?"

Palmer glanced up with only a slightly scared look. "I don't know." He turned his head to see them all staring at him. He continued, with an uncertain tone. "I tried to get a hold of him when dispatch called, but…. He didn't answer."

Tony thought he saw McGee look away prematurely, like he was trying to hide something. Like he knew something. Well, that can't be good, Tony thought to himself.

"That's the fourth day, he's been gone this week," Ziva said, thoughtfully.

Gibbs appeared to be thinking hard. Tony knew it was an odd feeling for him not to know what was going on with his team. God, if he only knew. Tony glanced at Tim again. Like Gibbs would believe it anyway. Tony chuckled, that would be a fun conversation to witness. 'Oh, yeah Boss. I've been meaning to tell you, I and see the future. And ghosts. It's some kind of weird psychic thing that happened to me when I almost died.'

Gibbs seemed concerned. He grunted something about finding out, then sent Ziva out to interview witnesses, told McGee to help Palmer with the body, and 'strongly suggested' that Tony finish soon and help him with canvasing the rest the scene.

Tony quickly finished measuring and sketching the scene. He found Gibbs at the front door talking to the guard. "You ready Boss?"

Gibbs grunted and stepped outside expecting Tony to follow him. They walked around the side of the house searching for footprints. They were nearly to the back yard when Gibbs pointed to a spot in the middle of their path. It took Tony a moment to see it, but as he got closer, he noticed a faint impression in the grass. Nothing worth casting, but he took a picture anyway. Gibbs had passed him and was looking around again.

He stopped near the doors of the tool shed in the back corner of the yard. Tony stood up as Gibbs pointed to the ground, another faint outline of a shoe. Gibbs then pointed to the doors and then placed a finger over his lips. Tony got the idea. They both drew their weapons and stood on either side of the entrance to the dilapidated structure. Tony grabbed the handle and nodded to Gibbs to go in first.

When he opened the door a gray and blue blur jumped out, knocking Gibbs to the ground. A rather large man attempted to run towards the front of the house, but at Tony's yell, officers appeared in the five foot gap between the house and the ten foot privacy fence. The man turned on Tony. Oh, shit, he thought. He's got a buzz cut. This never turns out well in the movies.

The man's eyes were bloodshot and he was pale and sweaty. Tony thought he looked very angry. And, unsurprisingly, that anger was directed at him. The man lunged and Tony sidestepped him, causing him to run headlong into the fence. The thick wood didn't deter him.

Tony held up his gun, with fruitless cry of "Freeze!" As expected, he didn't listen. They never did. The man went for Tony again, and he took a shot but it went wide. Tony fell to the ground, the man on top of him. His gun was knocked from his hand by the impact with the ground.

He had just enough time to wonder where everybody was before a massive fist came into his line of sight and everything went black.

McGee had just finished helping Palmer to navigate the body through the narrow hallways and out to the M.E.'s van. He came back into the room where the murder had occurred to find Ziva bagging evidence. "Find anything good?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not unless Abby can get can sort out all of these fingerprints."

McGee inclined his head, "Ahh," he said. "Well, that sucks." He noticed something out of the window. Gibbs pointed at something on the ground. He didn't see anything. "Looks like Gibbs and Tony are having better luck."

Ziva looked over and then went back to her work. "Let us hope so, because, other than the fiber Tony found earlier, we do not have much to go on."

McGee stepped over to the box of evidence and after searching for it, found the jar containing the little blue fiber. He studied it closely. The color seemed familiar. "Looks like it came from the car out front."

Ziva appeared disappointed. "Then we really do have nothing."

"We'll find some—" McGee was abruptly cut off by Tony's yell from outside. McGee and Ziva ran to the window. Apparently, someone had been hiding in the toolshed out back. Gibbs was on the ground, struggling to get up to run after the suspect and Tony had his gun drawn. McGee saw the man turn on Tony right before he took off for the back door on the other side of the house on Ziva's heels.

By the time they reached the open air, Tony was on his back with the suspect on top of him. The man got one good shot to Tony's jaw before Gibbs jumped on his back and took him down with a sleeper hold. They fell off to the side and McGee ran around the unconscious Tony to help Gibbs restrain the much larger man.

Ziva slapped Tony a couple times, but he didn't wake up for about a minute. When he finally did come to, he came up swinging, nearly hitting Ziva, who was kneeling above him, in the face. She easily restrained him, holding his arms to the ground. "Tony," she said calmly, laying a hand on his face.

He calmed at the touch. He looked up at Ziva with bleary eyes and asked in a slurred voice, "Are you an angel?"

McGee rolled his eyes and said at the same time as Gibbs, "Concussion." McGee stood up from where he had his knee in the man's back, leaving him on the unconscious on the ground. He knelt down on Tony's other side, watching the surprisingly gentle way Ziva was looking at him. "Tony." He tapped him on the forehead. Tony looked up at him with comically wide eyes and then past him at the officers that had gathered around.

"Did I get him?" Tony asked the yard at large. McGee had to fight not to laugh as some of the officers behind him giggled.

"Hey!" Gibbs said, causing everyone to look at him. He was looking at the officers. "Somebody go get my M.E." They all scrambled to be the first one, if not only to get away from the death glare Gibbs was giving them all. Gibbs took a knee above Tony's head.

"Oh, hey, Boss," he said. He looked over to where the suspect was still lying on the ground, out for the count. "Good teamwork."

This time McGee could not stop himself from snickering. This, of course, earned him a not so gentle headslap.

At that moment, Palmer came up behind them followed by a couple of LEOs. "Holy- what happened here?" he asked, setting Ducky's emergency medical bag on the ground. "I heard a shot." He kneeled down to the spot where Ziva had moved out of the way, pointing a mini flashlight into Tony's eyes. The agent let out a squeak.

McGee stood up as well, leaving Palmer and Ziva to deal with Tony. He, Gibbs, and a couple of officers had to carry the suspect to a squad car with instructions to take him to NCIS headquarters.

By the time they got back, Tony was sitting with a slightly less dazed look on his face and he was trying fight off Palmer as he attempted to get a closer look at Tony's jaw, which had been split open by the force of the impact. Palmer had a cleansing wipe in one hand was steadying Tony's face with the other.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said, forcefully. Tony winced slightly at the noise. "Let Palmer do his job."

Tony flinched again as Palmer got him with the alcohol-covered wipe. "Hey, watch where you're sticking that."

"Sorry, Tony," Palmer said.

"You don't sound sorry."

Jimmy chose to remain silent as he continued looking Tony over. When he was done, he focused on Gibbs. "It's just a mild concussion. He should be fine as long as he doesn't go to sleep for the next four hours or so."

Gibbs nodded. "McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Take the charger," he tossed him the keys. "Go back to HQ and get your car, then take Tony home."

McGee started to ask if he had to, but thought better of it at Gibbs' glower. He nodded and went to help Tony off the ground. "Come on, DiNozzo."

"No sleeping in the car," Gibbs called to their retreating backs.

The ride to Tony's apartment wasn't a new situation to McGee. It had happened once before. Apparently Tony didn't trust Ziva not to take advantage of him in his damaged state, and instead of argue with him, Gibbs had subversively assigned McGee the job for any future head injuries. He knew the routine. Try desperately not to kill Tony as he rambled on and tap him on the chest whenever he got too quiet.

Tony was talking about ear mice and trying to get a look into McGee's ears when they finally arrived at Tony's apartment complex. McGee calmly pushed Tony's hand down and unbuckled both of their seatbelts. They had almost made it to the door before the nausea kicked in and Tony hurled into his landlord's flower garden.

McGee put in one of Tony's favorite movies, one that he couldn't watch without quoting, and settled on couch beside him. But not before grabbing a beer out of the fridge (for himself), the only way he would be able to listen to Tony explain over and over again why the original Defiant Ones was better than the remake.

Then Tony did something that caught him off guard. He turned to McGee more serious than he would have expected. "McGee…" he said, mostly looking McGee in the eye. "Are you okay?"

McGee was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Did you ever go talk to Dianne's parents?"

"Well, it was just her mom, but yeah."

"That's good. That's really good." He looked around dazedly for a moment. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

McGee raised his eyebrows, but he knew what Tony meant. "I just told her what Dianne said before she died."

Tony nodded. "You know, I don't think I could have handled this."

"Handled what?"

Tony flipped his hand around drunkenly. "If I could see ghosts I would be freaking out. Why aren't you freaking out?" he said, exasperatedly.

It took McGee a minute to answer. He had thought about it over the past week. Any normal person would have committed themselves to an insane asylum by now. Truth was, he appeared to have gotten over the whole freaking out stage as everything was happening. He guessed he was just really good at accepting what was metaphorically right in front of him. He turned to answer, but found Tony with his head lying back on the couch, mouth hanging open. McGee rolled his eyes and slapped him hard on the stomach. "Tony!"

**AN: Right now, about halfway through with chapter nine. I've been working really hard and will probably get a few more chapters by the end of the weekend because I have absolutely nothing else to do for the next three days. Thank goodness. **

**BYW: We've reached about the midpoint of the story. If anybody has any suggestions, I am completely open. I've already incorporated a couple into the story. I also answer questions if anybody has any. Even if I just made a mistake you want to point out (trust me, I could use the help.) Read and Review. A happy writer makes happy readers! -*DOS***


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: It was the constant reviews from AlanaLE that made me realize what big a part Ducky would play in this story, which really helped to shape the true potential of this story. Thank you so much! **

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Eight**

It had been three days since the last crime scene, and Ducky had only shown up to do the autopsy, leaving Palmer to deal with the details. And Gibbs. From what Palmer told them all, as they gathered to hear the results, was that Doctor Mallard did the autopsy silently and hightailed it out of there the second it was done. Palmer was really shaken up. He didn't know what was going on and his imagination was running away with him.

"I kept trying to get him to talk. I even started saying things wrong on purpose so that he would correct me, but he just stayed silent." Palmer was obviously experiencing the beginnings of an emotional breakdown. McGee put a hand on his shoulder. Gibbs had already left with a worried and determined look on his face.

"Its okay, Jimmy." Tony said.

"I hope he isn't sick. What if he's—"

"Palmer," McGee looked him hard in the eye. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure if there was something wrong, you would be the first to know."

Palmer was still trying not to panic when they left him.

Abby was worse.

Oh, so much worse.

"But what if he's dying?" she said, calmly enough, her elbows on the desk in front of her. She was watching her hands as they picked at each other. "He could be really sick, he just doesn't want to tell us. What if he's sick?" she looked up at them anxiously. "Why would he hide it from us?"

"Abby, do not jump to conclusions," Ziva said.

She was silent for a moment, and then she suddenly jumped up. Tony opened his arms. She started off in his general direction, but wound up clinging to Ziva, who, being smaller than Abby, was forced back a few steps. She ran into a table with the back of her legs and had to sit on it to stay upright.

Ziva gave McGee and Tony a desperate look which was met with two pairs of raised hands.

McGee felt guilty for letting his friends go through the worry, while he knew what was wrong with Ducky. He didn't want to break the old man's trust. He had been told about Daniel in confidence, and he intended on keeping that confidence.

Ziva was now giving them both a threatening look, or as threatening as a look could be when it was red in the face from lack of air. McGee and Tony glanced at each other for a moment before Tony took off in a silent sprint to the stairs. McGee sighed, and then took a step towards the two women.

At the slightest touch, Abby released Ziva and latched onto Tim. He knew hugging was how she dealt with things, but that didn't make it easier to fight off the mascara-filled tears that would hopefully not stain his dark gray shirt too easily.

McGee looked around to find Ziva had vacated the lab as well. He didn't know what to say. The only thing he could think of that would actually make her feel better was the truth and he couldn't do that. So he rubbed her back until she calmed down, said he would be back down to visit as soon as he could and left for the bullpen.

Although they didn't show it very well, Tony and Ziva were worried too. He could tell by the way that Tony stared off into space while he was supposed to be working, and in the way Ziva was focusing even harder, flipping out every time she hit a snag on her computer or phone. Gibbs just yelled a lot. None of them seemed to notice that McGee wasn't acting out, but merely observing.

Ducky hadn't spoken to McGee since the day he cleared him for duty. Maybe he just felt he didn't need the help. He hoped Daniel hadn't gotten worse; chemo was a hard thing for the body to deal with.

Gibbs had tried to talk to Ducky, but the doctor was much better at avoiding Gibbs than McGee had expected. He was never at home when Gibbs went over to see him, and he wouldn't answer. When Director Vance was asked, all he knew was that Ducky was using up his backlogged sick days for personal business.

Ducky also kept his phone off. Gibbs was especially upset when McGee had searched his location and came up with nothing, not for lack of actually trying. McGee was just as worried as the rest of them.

This was why McGee had been waiting outside Ducky's place for the past three hours. Gibbs had come by earlier, but left more frustrated than before. He didn't see McGee's Porsche parked down the road and behind a few cars.

It was nearing midnight and McGee was getting ready to leave, when Ducky's car finally pulled into the driveway. McGee quickly got out of his car and walked up the sidewalk, pulling his jacket tighter around him. It was just starting to get cold in D.C. The door was already closed by the time he ascended the steps. He stood there for a moment, trying to gather what he wanted to say.

What _could_ he say? Palmer is freaking out, Abby is trying to strangle us, and Gibbs will work us to death if you don't come back. That seemed a little selfish. Ducky wouldn't have missed work if he didn't have to. How much worse had his friend gotten that Ducky would have been gone so much. More importantly, why did he keep leaving his phone off? Why was it that important that he wasn't found? It was really starting to feel like he didn't trust them.

McGee sighed and knocked on the door. After about a minute, a shadow appeared on the other side of the frosted glass. It opened slowly, revealing a haggard looking Ducky. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days. McGee knew that feeling.

"Timothy?" He sounded surprised. "What are you doing here?"

McGee gave him a stern look. "We're worried about you. All of us. Gibbs is about to lose it." Ducky gave a small smile. "How's Daniel?"

Ducky took a deep breath. "Why don't you come in?" He stepped back to allow McGee inside.

McGee had been in here once before, when Ducky first moved into the new place. It had been filled in a lot more since then. He followed him into the living room.

"Would you like some tea?"

McGee had to fight not to grimace. "No thanks." He sat down on the couch facing Ducky. "Are you okay?"

Ducky looked down for a moment. "Not really. Daniel is getting worse." He rubbed his hands together. "He has mere weeks left."

Tim put his hand on Ducky's knee, offering what little comfort he could. He was feeling bad for thinking that the doctor didn't trust them. He obviously just didn't think he could handle all the sympathy. McGee definitely knew that feeling. "I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled softly. "No, lad. Believe me, I appreciate the offer." He leaned back into the couch and exhaled, watching McGee. "I don't suppose you've ever had to deal with something like this?"

McGee shook his head. "I've been to plenty of funerals before, but it's always been a sudden death."

"Other than Caitlyn?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, and bowed his head. "My mom."

Ducky's eyes widened. "I never knew."

"No one does."

Ducky beheld McGee for a moment. "You know, I've read many poems that speak of death. They talk about it so familiarly. Many call it an old friend."

"Do you feel that way?" McGee asked.

Ducky thought about that for a moment. "That is a difficult question to answer. Admittedly, I have seen much death in my career. Even dealt it."

McGee nodded. The prisoner of war camp.

"Many of my friends have died, all of my relatives. Lovers." He looked up at McGee. "Did you know I once had a wife?"

McGee was shocked. "You're kidding."

Ducky smiled tenderly. "Her name was Josephina. She was amazing. I was about the same age you were when I met you."

"I never saw you as the type."

"After her, I realized that I wasn't."

"Did she pass?"

"Not when we were married, no. Josephina and I got a divorce after only eleven months." He gave a small laugh. "We both felt so constrained, trapped. Indeed, our love truly blossomed nearly ten years after we had broken off ties. We both knew by then that marriage was not for us. We were together off and on for five years before…" he sat forward on his knees, covering his mouth with his hand. "She was involved in a car accident. She was alive for two days after the fact." A single tear fell from his eye. "She did not go peacefully."

McGee was trying to fight the lump in his throat. "I couldn't imagine."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, and I hope you never have to."

They stayed silent for a moment. Then McGee spoke up, "Do you mind if I ask you a question, Ducky?"

Ducky came up out of his reverie. "Of course you can."

It took him a while to put the question into words. "You have dealt with death for a very long time." He paused. Ducky leaned in closer, curious. "Have you ever seen anything you found…," again, the right word, "difficult to believe."

Ducky's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I don't I understand what you mean, Timothy."

McGee felt like telling Ducky just to forget it. It was hard enough to explain to Tony, did he really need to tell Ducky? As far as he knew, this wasn't something one would normally share with every single person he knew. McGee looked up into his kind, expectant face. Surely he would understand. Ducky wasn't the type to blow off something as crazy, or inexplicable. What did he really have to lose?

He took a steadying breath.

"My, boy, you must tell me what is troubling you."

Another few seconds, then, "I've been seeing things. Bizarre things." He rubbed his mouth. "When I was shot, I—I saw something. I think it was a premonition, at least that's what Tony calls it."

That caught Ducky's interest. "A premonition? Tell me about it."

"Well," he didn't quite expect that reaction. "I saw Tony die. Very vividly, very… quickly. There was nothing I could have done. I felt so helpless, and scared. I'm afraid that it's actually going to happen, and that freaks me out. Humans aren't supposed to know the future. I told Tony. Took him a while to believe me, but I think he finally does." He paused again and closed his eyes... "But that's not all. Apparently, it's not just visions. The other day, when I witnessed that crash; I held that girl until she died But after she died, her—spirit, I guess, showed up and we spoke." Tim let out a laugh. "She asked me if I was psychic, and I didn't know what to say."

Ducky continued to stare at him for a time. It wasn't uncomfortable. He was simply studying Tim, as if to see if he meant what he said. He seemed to come to a positive supposition. "This is all very interesting," he said.

McGee was skeptical. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

Ducky smirked, if it could be said that Ducky smirked. "No, not crazy. My friend Daniel would say gifted."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never met anybody who has seen what you have seen, but Daniel has a strong belief in things like that. A very good acquaintance of his had the same 'sight' as he would call it." He looked thoughtful again. "If you wouldn't mind me asking, I'd like you to meet him. You might learn something about how you came upon your new talent."

**AN: Thank you for all the reviews. Sorry it took me so long to update, it's been... let's just call it a strange week. **

**As always, criticism is always welcome, as are suggestions. I can't guarantee that all suggestions will make it in, especially since I'm finally getting close to the end, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't try. I'll try to update sooner this time.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Nine**

McGee was a little worried about going to see Daniel. To be extremely honest, he was scared; he had never stared impending death in the face before. He hoped it wasn't…. well, he didn't really know what to expect.

He looked over at Tony, sitting at his desk with his feet up in the air. He was staring blankly at his computer. The sky behind him was black. They were waiting to go to the stakeout they were currently conducting. It was only the second day, but they were all exhausted. It was that soul sucking sensation of staring at an empty screen for hours upon end, wishing something would appear, no matter how mundane, because at least it would be more interesting than what you were doing before. And, unfortunately, he and Tony, had drawn the short straw; and by the short straw, he meant that Gibbs bullied them into volunteering for the night shift. Seven in the evening to seven in the morning.

They had opted to go home that morning, instead of back to work, which was the reason they had to show up three hours early to do their reports. Nothing had come of it yet, but, at least he hoped, it was bound to happen eventually. McGee yawned widely. It was only six in the evening; nonetheless, he had only gotten five hours of sleep today. Even though it was clearly in the job description, it was hard to change your sleeping schedule on command.

The phone rang suddenly from Tony's desk, causing Tony, who had nearly fallen asleep, to jump so violently that he tumbled out of his chair. He gave a low, pathetic keen as he sat up and reached for the phone. McGee burst out laughing.

"DiNozzo," he said, giving McGee the finger. Then his head snapped straight and he smiled. "Really," he asked the phone. "Yes, Boss."

He stood up, dropped the phone into the base, and moseyed over to McGee's desk, "Guess what?"

McGee rolled his eyes, immediately getting over his previous amusement. "Not in the mood, Tony."

"Well, you will be when you hear my news."

McGee looked up. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tony said, waggling his eyebrows.

McGee waited. And waited. "And?"

"Gibbs and Ziva caught the guy. Stakeouts over." He was practically bouncing with excitement. There was obviously more.

"_And?"_

"It's that girl."

"What girl?"

"That girl that we saw on our first night."

"The large one with the giant plastic surgery scar on the side of her face."

"What—no. The hot blonde with the big—" he dropped his hands from the lewd gesture he was formulating.

"Tony, you can say – "

Tony slapped him on the back of the head. "Hi, Director."

McGee rose up swiftly and turned around.

Vance narrowed his eyes, knowingly. "Good evening. Any news on the case?"

Tony stood straighter. "Caught the guy – er – girl. Michelle Ghalliger. Gibbs and Ziva are bringing her in right now."

"Ummhmm. I'll expect a full report on my desk tomorrow morning." He turned and headed towards the elevator on his way home.

McGee sat back down and let his head fall onto the top of his desk in frustration.

The drive to the hospital the next morning was relatively uneventful. It gave McGee time to think. Sure, he was glad to finally have someone who might be able to explain what was happening to him, but without cause to think about his new found - whatever it was, it had almost left his mind. He didn't have to think about Tony's forthcoming death. He didn't have to think about Dianne or where she was now. He no longer had to remember the look in her mother's eyes when he had conveyed to her her daughter's last words. He had felt fine after everything had occurred – surprisingly, it wasn't the whole 'psychic' thing that got to him – but lately… it had all been building up in his head. He hated going home to his quiet apartment, because the only thing he could do there was think. At least with the stakeout going on he was too worn out to lay awake and dwell on the past month. There were too many big questions that he could not stop asking himself. Whatever it was he had, it sure as hell didn't feel like a gift.

Thankfully it was a Saturday morning and he had to explain to no one where he was going. He had considered telling Tony, but thought better of it. Tony would insist on coming, and Tim didn't think Ducky would want him to give away the secret he'd been doing so well at keeping from all of them. Regardless of whether Tim thought he needed to or not. He was just glad that Ducky had confided in somebody.

McGee pulled up to the hospital and parked in the nearly empty lot. It was six-thirty in the morning, after all. He had to wait another ten minutes for Ducky to arrive for they had arranged to go in together. He waved when he saw his car. While McGee was altogether unprepared, the doctor brought him coffee and what smelled like a cinnamon roll in a white paper bag. He directed McGee to the enclosed courtyard to eat their breakfast.

"Sorry I couldn't come before this Ducky."

"I understand, my boy. You were on the job." He patted him on the back. "There is no rush."

They were sitting on a low stone wall, facing the glass doors that to the parking lot. Even though the courtyard had walls around it, the brisk morning breeze somehow made its way through. They were quiet as they ate, lost in their own thoughts.

"This is kind of an odd situation, isn't it?" McGee asked at last.

Ducky looked over at him and smiled. "Yes, it is."

McGee smiled back. He placed his coffee on the stone beside him. "How are you handing all this, Duck?"

He closed his eyes, giving himself time to think. "I don't know. Daniel and I have been through so much together. We were in the same unit for basic training. He was just a soldier and I a surgeon, but during those four months, we became the best of friends." He looked up to the sky, quietly ruminating.

"So you've kept in touch since then?"

"Oh, yes. It has been a very long time." He chuckled, quietly. "You know, our relationship reminds me of you and Anthony. Yes. Of course, as close as you two are, it could rival me and Daniel."

McGee laughed. "I find that very hard to believe."

"I don't." Ducky took another sip. "Now, I believe I am entitled to ask you how you are handling what you saw with young Anthony."

McGee gave an uneasy hum and sighed. "I don't know. I'm not exactly freaking out. Yet." He ran his hand through his hair. "It's just…. It's not going well. I'm dreaming about a lot. Sometimes it turns out good, sometimes, exactly like it went down in my vision. And sometimes… it's so, so much worse."

Ducky nodded. "Indeed, to know the future is a terrible burden. And as you said before, it is not one we mere mortals should have to bear. It is a weight on our humanity. However, if I am to be completely honest, I think that you wouldn't have seen it if there was nothing you could do about it. I believe the saying is 'everything happens for a reason.'"

That jerked McGee into attention. "I hadn't really thought of it that way." Maybe he was right. "Thanks, Ducky. That really… helps."

He smiled respectfully. "Anything I can do, Timothy. Just returning the favor." He stood up. "Are you ready?" he asked.

McGee nodded and stood as well. They rode the elevator to the fourth floor. The sign hanging from the ceiling read "Long Term Care". McGee looked around and into the rooms as he passed. It was nothing like the Intensive Care Unit he was in not too long ago. There were pictures on the walls; mostly of exotic scenes and open skies. No beeping machines, no doctors running from room to room. The nurses' station was decorated with flowers and bright colored streamers on the front of the large desk.

The nurse sitting behind the desk stood up when they came into her line of sight. "Hello, Doctor Mallard."

"Regina, dear, you must call me Ducky." He reached over the desk and she placed her hand in his.

She smiled, bashfully as he held tenderly to her hand. "Who's the cutie?" she asked, looking at McGee.

"This is Timothy. A dear friend of mine who wished to meet Daniel."

Regina reached her hand out to him and gave him a firm grip. He shook back. "That is very sweet of you, Timothy." Ducky meandered away purposefully, with a suspicious look on his face.

He grinned. "Call me Tim."

"Tim. I'm glad the Doctor finally got somebody to come here with him. He's such a sweet man." She leaned in closer and said softly, "I think Daniel's condition is really getting to him. He's been here almost every day for the past month. Even when Daniel's asleep, he comes out here and tells us stories for hours."

"Yep, that sounds like Ducky." McGee smirked. "How is Daniel doing, by the way?"

Her face grew grim. "Not very well, unfortunately. His condition is deteriorating drastically. I don't think he has much longer."

McGee nodded eyes down, and then looked over at Ducky, who was studying a rather beautiful picture of what looked like Hawaii. "I just hope it doesn't affect him too badly."

Regina gave him a smile. "Daniel should be awake by now," she called out to Ducky.

He nodded, "This way, Timothy," he said, leading him down the hall.

Daniel wasn't awake yet, which was a good thing. McGee was so surprised by the way he looked, that he stopped short. He was bald, not even eyelashes were preset. His eyes were sunken in can surrounded by dark circles. He was unbelievably thin, there was absolutely no fat anywhere that he could see. Daniel looked almost—Tim didn't really know how to describe it—uninhabited? At least he appeared to be resting peacefully.

Ducky went over to Daniel and placed a hand on his forearm. The man stirred slowly and looked up at Ducky. "My friend." He exclaimed in a raspy voice, with a British accent. "It's so good to see a familiar face in the morning."

Ducky sat his bed up. "Good to see you too, as always." He turned to McGee. "This is the young man I was telling you about. Timothy McGee."

McGee stepped up and took Daniel's thin hand in his own. "Ducky's told me so much about you."

"Likewise. I've been told you can see the other side."

McGee's mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. Daniel gave a smile of understanding. "Never thought of it that way?"

One side of McGee's mouth quirked up. "Apparently, I've never thought of it in a few ways."

Daniel nodded. "Have a seat." He pointed toward a chair behind McGee. Ducky had already sat down on the other side. Daniel readjusted himself against the pillows. "So," he said. "This is recent, what you can see?"

"Yes. Almost a month ago, I was shot and nearly died—"

"Do you remember anything from that?"

"You mean did I see a 'light' or something?"

Daniel smiled coyly. "Forgive my curiosity. I am nearing that same destination."

"Right. No I don't remember anything. Other than the premonition."

"Ah, yes. You saw the future. I must admit, I've never heard of that before."

"You haven't?" McGee said timidly.

Ducky said, from the other side of Daniel, "I told you he knew a lot, but I didn't say he was that good."

"So what was the premonition about?"

McGee cracked his neck, preparing to tell the story again. He had, after all, known this was coming. "My partner, Tony and I were chasing a suspect. I felt really scared. It was like—I knew something was wrong. We finally cornered him and we almost talked him down, but then something… happened and he wound up shooting Tony." He cleared his throat. "There was nothing I could do. All I remember after that is waking up in the hospital."

"Interesting," Daniel said. "Not to make a spectacle out of your pain, of course." He smiled at McGee. "In my experience, a 'near miss' with death can sometimes give one the gift you have received. It is very rare, of course. What else?"

It took McGee a little longer to tell him about Dianne. There was just so much to say and Daniel was extremely interested in what he saw. His eyes never left Tim's face as he talked. By the time he reached the part about the blinding light there were unshed tears in his eyes. McGee could think of nothing to say to comfort him, so he just went with, "It was beautiful."

Daniel smiled at him. "That sounds lovely." He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Would you mind trying something for me?"

"Like what?"

"I once had a friend with the same ability as you. I'm sure Ducky's mentioned. He could do something that I believe you have yet to discover. As have many others that I have found. If you would take my hand."

Curious, McGee did what he was asked.

"Now, focus. Close your eyes."

McGee did. "What am I trying to do?"

"I want to know what you feel. Sometimes people like you can create a connection to others, if the spirits so chose, that is. Very rarely, they can connect to the spirit of a living person as well." McGee adjusted his position in his chair. "Just relax."

Tim took a deep breath, reigning in his mind. He focused on Daniel's hand; the way it felt. Brittle, dry, almost papery. And cold. It was somewhat unnerving. It felt so lifeless. McGee couldn't stop thinking about how close to death Daniel really was. He was so… so…. Suddenly, McGee felt something. It seemed like it was emanating from Daniel's hand; like vibrating warmth. It began making its way up his arm. He wanted to let go, but all he could do was squeeze Daniel's hand tighter. It was as if he were being cut off from the physical world. He couldn't hear anything from around him, and he couldn't open his eyes. It was an odd occurrence, as if the further up his arm the feeling went, the more the trapped feeling started to fade away, and was replaced by a calmness that seemed to envelope him. It was ethereal.

He could sense the spirits in the room all around him. They said nothing, but he could feel their eagerness, directed at Daniel. They almost gave an impression of impatience, and it felt as if they were pleading with him to understand that they meant no harm. They were all just waiting for Daniel to come home.

As quickly as it began, the experience ended. McGee sat back quickly in his chair, shaking and drenched in sweat. Ducky was standing at his side, holding onto Tim's shoulder, and clearly had been for a while. Tim breathed deeply, trying to calm his pounding heart. "Are you alright, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

Daniel was rubbing his hand and looking at him excitedly. McGee scrubbed at his forehead; a dull ache was forming behind his eyes. He gazed up at Daniel. "You—you wouldn't believe—" He couldn't really decide on how to explain what he had felt.

Ducky sat down on the bed and regarded at him with a renewed interest.

Daniel asked, "What did you see?"

"I didn't see anything, but I could sense them."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But they're waiting for you." Daniel gave a stunned expression. "They really want to see you. I could tell how much they loved you."

Daniel swallowed, dryly. Quietly, he asked, "Do you know when?"

McGee took a deep breath. "Soon. Very soon."

Ducky wiped the unshed tears from his eyes and placed his hand on Daniel's. Daniel was looking rather overwhelmed, despite his interest before. "I think we've had enough for a while, my friend." He stood up, drawing McGee with him. He lowered the bad back down. "You rest for a while and I'll be back in a few hours."

"Wait." Daniel raised himself up with what little strength he had left. He focused on McGee. "You must come back when I pass."

Ducky began to protest, but McGee spoke over him. He was intrigued by what he had witnessed. "I'll come."

Daniel gave him a tired smile, and then relaxed back into his pillows. He was asleep by the time they withdrew the room.

Ducky turned to him out in the parking lot. "You don't have to come, you know."

McGee sighed. "You do realize you don't have to do this on your own, Ducky. If you won't tell anybody else, then at least let me be there to help you."

Ducky glanced up at the hospital building, right around where Daniel's room would be. "I just feel like I would be making it about me if I did that. And that's not what I want."

Tim put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Ducky, losing a friend is not something to be taken lightly. It's okay to lean on the people who care about you."

Ducky smiled. "That is the one aspect I have never been good at."

"We love you, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Timothy."

**AN: I apologize that the chapters are coming less often, but I have been working on chapter eleven all day. I really have been trying hard to work in my spare time. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Believe me, the action is just getting started. I always welcome suggestions, although, a as of right now, only the little ones can be added. Say a little cute scene b/t some of the characters, or something like that. Criticism - constructive, if you please - helps as well. It's okay, you won't hurt my feelings. **

**I will try to update soon. Have a good time, wherever you may be. Live the life!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: This chapter comes from a suggestion from Precious Pup. Thank you! I love getting suggestions from readers; it really, really makes the creative cogs in my head get going.**

**I was notified multiple times of my mistake about the nightshift being morning until night. I have fixed to be night until morning. Thanks for the help!**

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Ten**

Another case. A car accident – supposedly - with a lot of blood and very little to go on. NCIS was investigating because of some extremely special circumstances. The sailor, a Chief Petty Officer Melanie Waters, was privy to some top secret information. She was a microbiologist, working on something very important to the Navy; something they hadn't been let onto, yet. McGee squatted down next to the open door of the car and took pictures as Palmer did his initial inspection. The car was an older model Chevy – unlikely to have an anti-theft tracking device. No way to tell where she had been in the hours before her death. The victim appeared to have hit her head on the steering wheel. McGee snapped another photo. She had congealed blood on her face from where the wound had bled until she died. From the amount, it appeared to have taken her a while. Her clothes were dirty, and she had some cuts and bruises that practically screamed struggle.

There were no witnesses to the actual crash, being that it was on a scarcely used highway. However a couple had come by a few minutes after the accident. According to them, the wreckage was still smoking when they arrived. The car looked as if it had hit the guardrail full force. Tony was interviewing them now. Ziva was inspecting the skid marks on the road, or lack thereof. The longer they were there, the less it was looking like an accident.

Gibbs suddenly came up behind them. "TOD?"

Jimmy looked up, putting his liver prove away. "About six hours ago."

Gibbs nodded, jotting it down in his notes. "So what do you think, Palmer?"

Palmer pointed at Water's mouth. "See the foam there? That could indicate a seizure of some kind."

"Caused by what?"

"At this moment, I'm not exactly able to tell." He stood up and faced Gibbs. "Although, if she has no history of epilepsy, I would start considering an outside force as the cause of this seizure."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

Jimmy seemed a little unsure of himself. "I don't want to completely send you guys off in the wrong direction, but-"

"Spit it out," Gibbs demanded, not too harshly.

"She may have been… drugged," Palmer said. "But like I said, we'd need to make sure that this wasn't a preexisting condition. It doesn't even have to be preexisting; this might be the first occurrence, or just a fluke."

"McGee." Gibbs turned to where McGee had been messing with his smart phone.

"No history of epilepsy on her records, Boss."

Gibbs looked back to Palmer. "So you're saying she was drugged—" Palmer started to protest, "may have been drugged. Then while she was driving, she had a seizure because of it, crashed her car, and died from what? The drugs or the crash?"

Palmer went back to the body. "Only a high dose of drugs could make her have a seizure like this, and there really isn't that much blood." He thought for a moment. "Unless there is some serious head trauma that I can't see, the drugs are looking like the cause."

Gibbs nodded his thanks to Jimmy and walked back to the Challenger. "Ziva, you're with me. McGee, get Abby to do a tox screen as soon as you get back."

"Where are you going, Boss?" Tony called, coming back under the crime scene tape.

"To her lab. I wanna know what she was working on."

Tony came over to McGee and Jimmy, grumbling. "Why does Ziva always get to do all the fun stuff?"

McGee was puzzled. "What's so fun about going to a lab to interview scientists?"

Tony looked at him, annoyed. "They're not just interviewing them. They're hunting down a lead, grabbing on and not letting go, turning on the intimidation, in your face, hardcore police work."

McGee and Palmer both stared at him as he continued on his little rant. McGee finally stopped him. "Tony, are you okay?" he asked.

Tony snapped out of his rant, only slightly. "I'm fine. I'm just bored. We haven't had a really interesting case in a week, not unless you count that doped up Marine who gave me one hell of a headache. And that was only fun for you." he glared at McGee.

Clearly, Tony didn't remember it the way McGee did. "Tony, I was two inches away from killing you the entire time you wouldn't shut up. I – " McGee looked up to the sky, trying to gain back his composure. He placed a placating hand on Tony's shoulder. "Look," he steered him over to the autopsy gurney. "Why don't you help Palmer with the body and I'll finish documenting the scene. There'll be plenty of action soon enough."

Tony nodded, reminding McGee of a child being told he couldn't have his favorite toy. McGee rolled his eyes as he watched Tony help Palmer to lift the body out of the car. As soon as they were cleared, McGee started taking photos of the now empty driver's seat. He scratched at an itch on the back of his neck and then rolled his head around. It was too early in the morning for this. Nearly everybody who had been here before had left, only two cop cars now stood nearby, with four local LEOs left to guard the scene, on either side of the crash site.

McGee walked around to the front of the car, were there was an impressive dent that nearly caved in the engine block. That and the lack of black tire markings in the road held water to Palmer's theory that the Chief Petty Officer did not have control of her vehicle when it came to an abrupt halt. McGee suddenly winced slapped his neck in a natural response as he felt something bite the same place that had itched a minute ago. There was nothing on his hand. He must have missed it the first time.

A strong breeze of air blew past his face. He looked up to the sky. Strange, it hadn't been blowing before. He waited for another one to come, for something to rustle the trees, but nothing happened. He looked around everything was completely still. Had nobody else felt that? Something started to feel off in the back of his mind. He rubbed at the back of his neck again. It was starting to feel hot; maybe that bug had stung him. He searched around for the sting, finding nothing. He was just about to ask Tony, busy getting the gurney stuck on the edge of the autopsy van, if he could see anything, when it started to tingle. No, not tingle, vibrate. That can't be right, he thought. Wait. This felt awfully familiar, it was that warm, vibrating sensation he'd had that day with Daniel.

McGee spun around. Tony knew, but he didn't need all these people to see him spazing in the middle of the crime scene. There was no privacy on this road; the guardrail in front of him led about ten feet down at a small angle before it flattened out. He figured that was his best chance if he didn't want to be seen. He easily jumped the barrier and quickly made his way down away from the highway. He still felt incredibly exposed, and his neck and shoulders were covered with the reaction to the supernatural. His knees grew weak and he was forced to sit down on the slight incline, and he prepared himself to be 'communicated' with. The warmth had made it almost all the way down his back when the outside world was cut off from him.

It was different than the last time. The atmosphere surrounding him told of pain and fear. It was a dark, angry energy. Like before, he couldn't see anything, but he could sense an entity close to him, as if it was trying to whisper in his ear. But it felt more like it was screaming; at least, it wanted to. He couldn't hear anything at first, but then, as if from some great distance, he heard someone yelling a name. Rick Turner. McGee wanted to ask what the name meant, but he was powerless to talk back to the spirit. Then the words being repeated changed. The back yard? He tried to ask why with all his power, but was met with only resistance.

The real world came back in a rush that left McGee feeling dizzy. He had to prop himself up against the incline so that he didn't fall back into the dirt. He could hear Tony calling for him from up above, and he attempted to yell back, but was having trouble finding his voice.

"McGee? Where the hell are you?" McGee could hear the glass crunching under his feet as he searched around. "Don't worry, the Autopsy Gremlin's already left, you don't have to hide anymore." A pause, then "McGee!" footsteps made their way down behind Tim.

Tony skidded to a halt in front of him and landed on his knees. He was erratic. "McGee, are you okay? Did you fall?" He placed his hands on McGee's shoulders and gave him a surprised look when he felt the cold sheen of sweat covering his body.

McGee opened his mouth. He was still shaken up and a little queasy, too. What the spirit had told him was disturbing, to say the least. Tony seemed to sense that what was wrong with McGee wasn't natural. He grabbed McGee's arms and pulled him up, and hauled him back over the rail and over to the crime scene van.

Tony finished collecting all the evidence by himself, told the local cops that the NCIS tow truck would be there within the hour and quickly took off down the road. About twenty miles away, he stopped in front of a diner along the highway and turned to look at McGee. "Spill."

McGee took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "I saw – well I heard something. It was a spirit."

Tony raised his eyebrows, waiting for more. When nothing came, he gestured for McGee to go on, saying, "And?"

"I got a name. Rick Turner. And a – suggestion." McGee chewed on the inside of his lip. "It said check the back yard."

"The – check the back yard?" he shook his head. "So a spirit wants you to go creeping around someone's house? For what?"

"It didn't really get that far, but I think it has something to do with the case we're on now?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess."

Tony sat back in the driver's seat. "Okay. So maybe run the victim's name with this Rick Turner guy back at the office and see what pops up."

He did. Gibbs and Ziva were still gone by the time they got back to the office. Tony took Abby the evidence while Tim headed straight for the bullpen to test Tony's theory. Maybe the two names had something in common. He sat at his desk and set up the search, running credit cards, memberships, airline and bus tickets, anything he could think of that two unrelated people might have in common. He also pulled up Rick Turner's file. Unaffiliated with the military, currently married to a Kathy Turner – no children, - worked in the loans office at a D.C. Metro back. He belonged to a Methodist church, and he had recently joined a gym. He was completely unremarkable.

Or so McGee thought when his screen was covered with matches. Credit card statements that said, starting about two months ago, the two often went to the same coffee shop, usually within ten minutes of each other. Also, the gym Turner had just joined, around two-and-a-half months ago, was the same one Melanie Waters belonged to for the past five years. Another match came up, in front of everything else. They had both vacationed in Baja at the exact same time, according to the matching hotel bills staring him in the face.

Tony's voice came out of nowhere, startling Tim. "Well, that can't be good."

**AN: Thanks to everybody who had reviewed, favorited, followed, and read my story. You have no idea how important that is to me. It's so awesome. Love the reviews. So hit me with some suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a comment on how you think I'm doing. I'd love to hear from you. Thanks! -DOS**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: By the way, I have no idea where anything is in relation to anything else in D.C. I'm evoking dramatic license.**

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Eleven**

"Well, that can't be good."

McGee gaped at the screen. This could not be happening. "She was being stalked," he said blatantly.

"So why would Waters tell you to check the back yard?"

They both looked at each other and said at the same time, "Serial killer."

The elevator dinged, emitting Ziva and Gibbs. The latter appeared to be in quite a state of frustration. Obviously, nothing had been gained at the lab.

Tony stood up straight. "Boss."

Gibbs threw his jacket down on his chair. "Apparently nobody was capable of telling us anything.

Ziva sat down in her chair, but not before implanting her knife into her desk, making Tony jump.

McGee stood up next to him. "Boss."

Ziva said, "They did not appear to be lying, though. We just wasted an entire day on a pointless lead. I am going to murder Palmer."

"Nah, Palmer got it right," Gibbs said as he sat down. "We just went straight to the wrong assumption."

McGee rolled his eyes. Both Gibbs and Ziva had a laser focus that neither he nor Tony could ever match. He looked at Tony as they went on. "Are they ever gonna stop?"

Tony grinned. "Only if we stop them."

They turned back to the angry pair. "Hey."

"What?"

"We've got something."

Gibbs glared at them. "Well, why the hell didn't you say something?"

Tony snickered. "Yeah like I'd like to get between an angry Ziva and her knife." Gibbs growled, snapping Tony out of his joke. He turned to the plasma. "Click the button McHunch."

McGee grabbed the remote from the tabletop beneath the big screen. "Credit card statements, gym memberships, and a matching vacation." He looked behind him at Gibbs. "These belong to Chief Petty Officer Waters and one Rick Turner."

Gibbs looked perplexed. "And this means?"

Tony spoke up. "She was being stalked. We think he's a – oomph – "

McGee hit him in the stomach and glared. The problem with their theory was that they had no actual proof that Rick Turner did anything other than stalk one woman. They couldn't even prove that he drugged her. He looked back at Gibbs, who was staring at him bewilderedly. "Something just feels off Boss. Can't really place it."

Tony was still rubbing his stomach. "I think we need to check it out."

Gibbs stood for a moment in silence, scratching his head. "Alright. You two go. Bring me back something solid."

They both nodded. Tim said, "Will do, Boss."

When they reached the elevator, Tony asked, "Think he bought it?"

"Can't really tell. I mean, he is letting us go, but that could just mean that he has nothing else to lose."

The drive only took about thirty minutes, and by the time they reached Turner's house, McGee had gotten a hold of Turner's GPS tracking system. As Tony said, you'd think a good serial killer would know to turn off the system. Also, as it had turned out, the car Megan Waters was found in was stolen the night before. Maybe she had taken it as she got away. McGee had tracked Turner's and Waters' actual car and found a disturbing pattern. The lines overlapped, but mainly in the morning and at night; killers have jobs too. He closed the laptop and looked at Tony. "This is just getting scary."

Tony threw the car into park and got out, looking at the house. "Yeah. It's not looking good. Come on."

The lights were off on the inside and there was no car in the driveway. So all they could do was knock on the door and pray that the guy was just really misleading, as all serial killers are. No luck, however, was had. They looked for anything that they could, but Turner was meticulous. All the curtains were drawn, the back gate was closed, and nothing suspicious was in their view. The yard was perfect. A well-tended was the main focal point. There were no flowers, just ferns and other green leafy plants. The house was painted white. It was clearly well-kept, normal. They were about to give it up when an old woman caught sight of them, from the porch of the house next door.

"Hello?" she said. "Why are you looking into Rick's yard?"

They both spun around. She was small and fragile looking: her hair was caught up in a tight, gray bun, and her dress was ill-fitting. She looked at them with curious eyes, the left one was clouded over. It wasn't that hard to imagine what Tony was thinking right at that moment.

"Yes, Mrs.…."

"Ms. Raylord."

McGee shook her hand over the short fence separating the two properties. "Good morning. I'm Tim McGee and this is my partner, Tony DiNozzo."

Her eyes widened and then she gave them a knowing look. "Oh, I've always loved the gays. Something about two men together just gets me all ruffled up."

Tim could see out of the corner of his eye Tony turning red in the face as he desperately tried to hold in the laughter. "No we're – " he tried to say.

"Yes, me too. Right sweetie?" He took McGee's hand. McGee tried to get loose, but Tony just gripped tighter.

Grinding his teeth, McGee gave a strangled yes. He had to admit, it was a rather effective ruse. Sometimes, witnesses responded better when they were unaware that they were talking to cops. He smiled. "We've heard some things. About Mr. Turner. Have you seen or heard anything strange going on here, maybe late at night?"

She gave them both a conspicuous look. "Well, he likes to come in really late. He's almost never home in the evenings and sometimes he stays out all night. I've seen him coming home in the morning." She looked around, making sure nobody could hear her gossip. "I think he's cheating on his wife. But you didn't hear it from me."

"When was the last time you saw either of them?"

"Well, Mrs. Turner left for work this morning, but I have yet to see Mr. Turner since last night when he left around six."

McGee looked at Tony to see him widening his eyes at the old woman's revelation. So McGee stepped in, "Ma'am thank you so much." He shook her hand again. "You've been a lot of help."

As soon as they were out of eyesight of Ms. Raylord, McGee jerked his hand out of Tony's and gave him an appalled look. A look to which Tony waggled his eyebrows and said, "So what do you think?"

McGee narrowed his eyebrows once more before answering. "I think she's got something, but we still have no proof that anything happened until we can look in the back yard."

"So… let's look in the back yard," Tony said, stalking off toward the gate.

McGee chased after him. "Tony, we don't have a warrant. Or probably cause. Tony!" he wasn't stopping. He casually jumped over the fence. "Tony! What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm finding proof."

McGee sighed and followed him. "We can't use anything we find back here."

"Yeah, but if we come back with nothing, Gibbs isn't gonna let us investigate Turner anymore."

Compared to the manicured front yard, the back was extremely unimpressive. The grass was growing in patches, and it was mostly dirt and rocks. McGee didn't really know where to start. Because of what the spirit had told him, he and Tony both thought that the guy was a serial killer, which practically screamed start digging, but he knew that if they found anything illegally that the guy would get off in a heartbeat. This had to be done the right way. He and Tony searched around. The entire place gave off an eerie feeling that they just couldn't get away from. Unfortunately, warrants were not gained by just feelings, and all they had to go on was completely intangible.

Tony gestured for Tim to come over to a tool shed that was standing open. They stood at the entrance; it was a typical shed, toolboxes, saws, screwdrivers, shovels, other various gardening tools, and potting soil. Everything you'd need to maintain a home and garden. "I don't see anything too suspicious," McGee said.

Tony shined a flashlight into the interior and took a step inside. He began searching around.

McGee stepped away to walk around the perimeter of the yard. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting being here, and he could tell that Tony could feel it too. It was the burden of the knowledge that they couldn't corroborate. He didn't really know what he was looking for. In situations like this it was difficult to figure out exactly what would be useful. He knelt down beside a scratch on the wooden fence: nothing too obvious.

All of a sudden, it felt like something pinched Tim's left shoulder, and he slapped at it. It took him a minute to realize that his shoulder was covered in three layers. Only one thing could have done that. Shit.

* * *

><p>Tony was still looking around in the shed. While a lot of the stuff in there could easily be used to burykill a person, he needed something more apparent. He was searching for blood – or something – on the tools when he heard a terse, "Tony!" come from outside.

He stepped outside to see McGee standing by the fence. Maybe he found something. "Hey, what'd you get?" He didn't receive an answer. Tim merely stood there, staring off into the distance in the other direction. "Hey, McGee." still no response. Tony elongated his steps. Something didn't seem right.

He stopped in front of McGee's line of sight. He was staring blankly past him, a far off look in his eyes. Tony waved his hand in front of his face. "Earth to McGee." He was white as a sheet, exactly like he had found him that morning. Could it be…. Tony touched McGee on the arm. He didn't move. Tony had come in after the fact at the crime scene today. Could he really be having a vision? Tony looked around swiftly. Whatever was happening, this was not the time or the place for it to happen. He grabbed McGee's arm and began to lead him to the front yard, opening the gate that they hadn't used before. McGee was dragging his feet, but he was walking. They made it back to the car, where Tony sat Tim down, jumped in the driver's seat, and drove off.

McGee was now sweating profusely and panting, but still scarcely making a sound. He was clenching his fists, and seemed to be in relatively a distressing state. Tony was getting worried. Did they usually last this long? He really had no idea. He didn't even know if it had happened before today. McGee wasn't as freaked out this morning as he was the first time he saw a ghost, and, clearly, this was different than that.

It seemed like McGee hadn't regained actual consciousness in about fifteen minutes, although it was probably closer to five. He suddenly took a deep gasping breath. Tony slammed on the brakes and parked on the side of the street, grabbing at McGee's hands as they flew in front of him, as if grasping for something.

"Tim, hey. Calm down." McGee looked at him with wild eyes. "Tell me what happened."

He spoke, out of breath. "We're at the wrong house." He looked around quickly. "Or… were. Where are we?"

"I had to get you out of there, Tim. Didn't need you freaking out on me if Turner came back. What did you see?" he said in a commanding tone.

McGee looked back at him, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. "There were a lot of trees, a forest, I think. They didn't say anything – "

"They?"

"There was more than one spirit. They were all in – pain. They showed me images of… well, stuff someone should never have to experience." He paused for a moment. "It was weird, though. I've never seen images before. Just feelings, and words." He looked at Tony. "These spirits may have been more powerful than the others and that's why they could do more. Or maybe it was because there were more of them." He took another calming breath. "The images were just flashes. An old house, a basement," McGee swallowed. "Knives, I could feel them screaming. They were tortured brutally, but they couldn't do anything about it. Like they were… drugged. We've gotta find this guy."

"Trees and an old house? Maybe this guy has another property somewhere?"

McGee's eyebrows creased. "You think?" he said, twisting around to grab his laptop from the backseat. It only took him about thirty seconds before he gave a "Yes!" with a renewed energy. He turned the computer to face Tony. It showed an aerial Google Maps screenshot of a run-down house in the middle of the woods on the outskirts of D.C. near Shenandoah State Park. "That's the house. The one I saw."

"It's pretty far up. Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Tony hit the speed dial on his phone in an instant, while at the same time propelling the car back into the road. "Gibbs. We've got something."

**AN: I love the reviews. Keep them coming. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Twelve**

Tony went as fast as he could, but the house was on the other side of the city. Gibbs and Ziva were even further away; still at headquarters when Tony hung up the phone. McGee only sat in the passenger seat, not saying a word. Tony was amazed by the way his gift was working for them. You wouldn't think it was an accident that caused it to happen, but fate. Of course, fate sure as hell picked the right person. In reality, if it had happened to Tony, he would have locked himself in his house and never left. It was kind of scary, to be connected with something so unnatural.

They arrived at the house just as Gibbs and Ziva pulled up. It was all over very quickly. Turner was inside, in the living room, staring at the north wall which was covered in literally hundreds of color and black and white photos. They seemed to be more faded towards the middle, as if they had been there a while. The photos were of women; white, with dark hair. Some seemed to be the usual type of stalker picture, far off and behind trees and fences, while some had obviously come from the internet and newspapers. Tony saw one on the end that looked like it was cut out from a high school yearbook. On the far top right corner was Chief Petty Officer Megan Waters. There was nobody else in the house, but there was blood in the basement. And more pictures, these of less appealing nature. McGee gasped at the sight, but Gibbs and Ziva just threw it off as a gasp of shock, rather than what Tony knew it really meant. While Gibbs and Ziva dragged Rick Turner out to the car McGee stepped up to the wall.

"I – recognize some of them. Not their faces, necessarily, but their…"

"Auras?"

McGee nodded. "I suppose that makes the most sense." He turned to Tony. "We should check the back yard."

The sight was sickening. The ground was recently disturbed. Very recently disturbed. And in many places. There were multiple shovels littered on the ground. And the smell. The bodies clearly were not buried down far enough, allowing it to seep up through the ground. McGee stood and stared, but Tony couldn't take it. The air felt so heavy and still, and combined with the smell and the hot sun on the back of his neck it caused Tony to become very, unpleasantly sick next to a nearby tree. That particular reaction hadn't occurred with him for over ten years. A hand on his back made him stand back up and wipe his mouth.

"Are you okay?" McGee asked him.

"Am I okay? You saw everything that he did to them, why aren't you freaking out?"

"You've asked me that before, you know."

"Yeah and I never got an answer."

McGee looked back to the yard, a serene look on his face. "Because I saw them again. All of them." He turned back to Tony. "They're finally at peace."

* * *

><p>Tony and McGee had disappeared. Gibbs left Ziva to wait for the locals and walked through the house, past the wall of women and the door down to the basement ,or, as Gibbs would probably think about it for a very long time, 'The Gateway to Hell.' Maybe they were outside. He sure as hell didn't want to be in here anymore than he already had to. He walked through the kitchen, nearly empty. There was no food or cooking utensils in sight. The killer didn't eat here, but Gibbs didn't expect anything less. People like him liked to keep the normal parts of their lives separate from the bad parts. Some even thought of fasting as a cleansing process to prepare their bodies and minds for what they were about to do. It was sickening.<p>

Gibbs didn't just not like finding these places, hated it. He knew the rest of the team did as well. This was quickly evidenced by Tony, who Gibbs saw through the window, hunched over, heaving on the edge of the forest. He started to go out the back door when McGee came up behind Tony and placed a hand on his back. Tony stood up quickly, a heated look on his face. Gibbs opened the door quietly, wondering why Tony might be mad. He wasn't quite yelling at McGee, but he could tell he was trying to holding it back. He spoke loud enough for Gibbs to hear, "Yeah, and I never got an answer." He wondered what they could be talking about. McGee said something quietly and Tony widened his eyes.

Gibbs stepped out of the doorway and asked, "What are you two talking about?"

They both visibly jumped and turned in his direction. McGee stammered out, "N—nothing, Boss." But Gibbs didn't believe him. It was clearly something that they had discussed before.

Gibbs was curious enough about it that later, when they got back to NCIS, he cornered McGee in the elevator. He flipped the switch, "All right, speak."

It looked like McGee was trying to act confused, but Gibbs caught the nervousness hidden just beneath the surface. There was some internal struggle. "It was nothing, Boss. Just an old argument that came up. Tony – it was just really bad timing."

Gibbs didn't necessarily believe him, but he could tell that it was all he would get from him. Damn, he taught the kid well. But that didn't mean he was done with him. "Is there anything else going on with you? You haven't been yourself lately."

McGee looked sheepish. "You've noticed, huh?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I'm not an idiot, Tim. You know you can come to me with anything."

McGee half-smiled. "It's – not really my story to tell."

"What do you mean? Tony? Is that why—"

"No. Not Tony." He looked uncomfortable under Gibbs' hard glare.

"Tell me, Tim. If it's bugging you that much, you can't keep it all inside. Rule four."

McGee nodded. "The second best way to keep a secret, tell one other person, if you must."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"No."

Gibbs thought for a moment, while McGee stayed stubbornly silent. There was only one big thing lately. Surely it wasn't…. "It's not Ducky, is it?"

McGee's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he tried to look away, but Gibbs grabbed at his shoulders, his own curiosity and frustration on the subject taking over. "McGee, what is wrong with Ducky? And why hasn't he told anybody where he's been?" he still didn't say anything. "Hey!"

He didn't mean to shout, and when McGee winced, Gibbs let go and took a step back. "I'm sorry, Tim. I'm just worried."

"That's completely understandable." He sighed. "I just don't know if he wants me to tell you. I tried to talk him into it, but he didn't want everybody to worry."

Gibbs had to fight not to show the anger he didn't want to feel towards Ducky. The man was never very good at sharing burdens. "Please tell me."

McGee closed his eyes tight for a moment. "Okay."

As Gibbs listened, he realized that he was completely right to be worried before. He just couldn't believe that Ducky had tried to handle the impending death of a friend on his own. He supposed he should be glad that he at least let Tim in. And he had to give Tim the credit for being more persistent than him. And loyal – no matter how much it was clearly eating him up inside.

As he told him about Daniel, though, it seemed as if he was holding something back. He stuttered a little, trying to work his way around the truth. Gibbs didn't want to push him any further, so he let it go. But when he got to the part about going back when Daniel passed, to 'be with Ducky,' as he said, Gibbs told him that in no uncertain terms that he was to go by himself. Both Ducky and McGee needed someone there. He could tell it was hitting McGee harder than he wanted to let on.

It looked like McGee wanted to say no, but then his resolve failed. "You're not gonna give up are you?"

Gibbs glared.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah, you can come."

* * *

><p>Ducky hadn't called Tim again. He considered just going back to the hospital, whether Ducky liked it or not, but, quite honestly, it didn't seem an appropriate thing to do. He needed to spend as much time with Daniel as possible, and McGee would just be intruding.<p>

As guilty as Tim may have felt about telling Gibbs about what was happening without Ducky's permission, he felt relieved to not have to hold it in anymore. Ducky needed the support whether he knew it or not. But that wasn't what Tim was most concerned about. In telling Gibbs he could come, it meant that he would have to tell him about his 'gift.' And he was a little scared that he wouldn't believe him, after all, look at how long it took Tony. He always knew everyone would have to find out eventually, he just didn't think it would be so soon. It was a stressful situation, no matter which way you looked at it.

The problem was getting up the courage to just tell Gibbs. McGee had put it off for days. Every time he started to talk to him, he got too freaked out to talk. He wasn't scared of Gibbs; he was just afraid that he would send him to see the psychologist. He would ask Tony – he would know what to do – but that would involve him having to tell another person about Daniel, and he didn't think he was ready for that. Tony knew about everything else. He could wait a little longer to find out about Ducky. At least until Ducky wanted to tell everybody.

McGee couldn't get those thoughts out of his head as the entire team sat quietly at their desks in the bullpen, writing reports, after yet another arrest in a seemingly endless stream of crime. He hadn't smiled in days; it had been nearly a week and a half since they took Rick Turner down. They didn't need a confession, the evidence was all there. The only thing a jury had to decide was whether the death penalty was necessary. McGee, for one, hoped that whatever happened, he suffered. The man deserved to feel all the pain that those women had to endure. As hard as McGee tried not to let things like that get to him, nobody had that kind of capacity to ignore the pain staring them right in the face.

He was suddenly jerked out of his reverie by the ringing of his cell phone. He answered without looking at the screen. "McGee."

"Timothy," came a strained voice.

McGee stood up quickly and walked over to stand behind the stairs to the upper floor. "Ducky, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Ducky took a shaky breath. "It's time, lad. He doesn't have much time left."

McGee was struck speechless for a moment. He wasn't expecting this to happen so soon.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah, Duck. I'll be there as soon as I can." He paused. "There's something else."

Ducky cut him off. "Don't worry. I know that you told Gibbs. He informed me that he forced it out of you." He gave an attempt at a laugh. "I would suggest you bring him as well."

McGee closed eyes. "Alright. We'll be there."

McGee stood for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck. He still had yet to figure out how to start the conversation with Gibbs, but he just had to face it like a man; nothing less would be accepted. Maybe if he seemed confident, the news would be easier to receive. Yeah, right, he thought.

He stepped back around into the bullpen. Nobody appeared to have noticed that he had left, being so caught up in their own work. He walked to the front of Gibbs' desk. He looked up. "Yes?"

McGee gave him a meaningful look. "Can I talk to you, Boss?"

He didn't give any indication that he knew what he was talking about. He stood up and led McGee to the stairs. Tony and Ziva's heads popped up from their paperwork and stared curiously at them as they passed. He could hear them whispering behind their retreating backs. Gibbs went halfway down a flight of stairs then stopped and turned to McGee. "Daniel?"

"Yeah. He doesn't have much longer. Ducky doesn't sound too good."

Gibbs took a breath and nodded solemnly. "Damn it." He looked back to the door to their floor. "Well, let's go."

Tony was sitting on Ziva's desk as they came back through. They were obviously talking about what they thought was going on. "Something up, Boss?" Tony piped up as Gibbs and McGee grabbed their stuff from their desks.

"No. Make sure those reports are done by tomorrow. We won't be back tonight."

Tony stood and tried to stop McGee who was behind Gibbs. McGee slipped past him and mouthed, "I'll tell you later." He knew Tony didn't like to be kept in the dark, but he nodded faintly that he understood.

Gibbs drove. Maybe working up the courage wasn't what Tim needed. In his experience, courage usually came out of nowhere; there was no preparation involved. So, ten minutes after they left, he blurted it out. "I have to tell you something."

Gibbs kept his eyes on the road. "You sure this is the right time for sharing, Tim?"

McGee sighed. "Yes."

Gibbs glanced in his direction, waiting for him to continue. "Okay. Well?"

It took a minute to get started. "It's – it's about Daniel. Well, it's kind of about Daniel."

"Get to the point, Tim."

If there was some way to work his way into it, he had yet to find it, and Gibbs was looking at him more than was really comfortable, considering he was going well over the speed limit. He closed his eyes tight and just said it. "I'm psychic."

Gibbs didn't make a sound, so McGee slowly peeled his eyes and looked over at his Boss. He had glued back to the road, almost looking as if he didn't hear him. But McGee knew better. He was trying to decide whether or not his agent had lost his mind. "I'm not crazy, Gibbs."

Gibbs blinked. "Nope. Crazy is definitely not the word I would use."

Well this was going just about as well as he had expected. "Look. I know how this sounds. Being – what I am – isn't supposed to be possible. Believe me, I had some serious issues with accepting it myself. So did Tony."

"So Tony knows about this too?" he made a cursory glance at McGee.

"Yeah. He does. He thought I'd lost too it when I first told him."

Gibbs shook his head slightly, like he was trying to shake some sense into his brain. "So when did this happen, McGee?"

He's patronizing me. "When I was shot and almost died. I had a – vision. It's actually why Ducky took me to meet Daniel."

"A vision? And Ducky knows too."

"Yes, our resident psychologist knows. And he believes me."

They stopped at a stop sign. Gibbs turned to look McGee in the eyes. McGee knew he was trying to believe him, but was finding it – let's just say difficult. A car pulled up behind them and honked his horn, causing Gibbs to stick his hand out the window in a rude gesture that McGee had never seen the man make before. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't think that doing so would help his case of defending his sanity. The car drove around them returning the hand sign and honking again.

"Tim—"

"Yeah, I know, you want to believe me, but it's hard to do. You're worried about my mental health. You think that it was just a dream that my mind made up when I was delirious, but you should know that it's happened again. I've seen ghosts – more than once. The Turner case. I got a little supernatural help on that one. Chief Petty Officer Megan Waters told me, let's go with 'from the grave,' to check Turner out. Do you really think I'm that goods at computers." He thought about that statement. "Okay, well, I suppose I am good enough to have figured out the connection, but it would have taken me a lot longer to do it. Ducky introduced me to his friend Daniel after I told him." Another car, another inappropriate hand signal. "Daniel knows a lot about this stuff. He used to have a friend with the same gift and he's met other people over the years. He asked me to…. He asked me to try something with him. He wanted me to attempt to connect with him, spiritually. I could feel everyone he ever knew there in the room with us, waiting for him. That's why I wanted to come back when he died. To see if I could sense anything else."

Gibbs didn't move for a minute; even when another car sped by, this time with a vulgar shout towards their car. It didn't seem as if he knew what to say (did he ever?) It was a lot to process and McGee didn't expect him to believe him all at once. He gave up for the moment.

"Look, we should just go, we can talk about it later. Ducky needs us right now."

Gibbs still didn't say anything, but put the car into drive and slammed his foot down on the gas, grateful for something else to do.

**AN: Chapter thirteen should be up soon.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**AN: I've had a question about McGee's powers. Sometimes he can see the spirit as if it were standing right in front of him, but other times, he gets images, sounds, or feelings. The only way I can explain it is that seeing images is the norm when it comes to spirits who have been left behind or are reaching out from the beyond. However, the girl wasn't to that point yet. She had just died and was in the process of leaving the plane of reality that we live in. The thing about this gift is that it does not have rules that are set in stone. It changes depending on the spirit that is trying to do the talking. It's very malleable in that respect.**

They arrived at the hospital in less than fifteen minutes and took the stairs slower than was really necessary. Neither wanted to willingly put themselves in a situation like this, but were determined to be there to comfort a friend. Regina greeted McGee somberly as they passed. "I'm glad you're here, Tim. I'm afraid that Doctor Mallard isn't handling it very well."

McGee nodded silent thanks and led Gibbs to the room. Daniel was awake, but only barely. "Ah, Tim." He said in a weak voice. "So sorry to have to meet again in so wretched a situation." He attempted to lift his hand, but McGee caught it before he got very far.

He held it for a moment, watching out of the corner of his eye as Gibbs went to stand beside Ducky, waiting to be introduced. "It is good to see you again, Daniel," he said. He stood up. "Allow me to introduce you to my Boss, Jethro Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded from where he was. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He looked back at McGee. "I assume he's been told?"

McGee gave a half-amused smile. "Well, I tried." He saw Gibbs give an exasperated look. "Told you, Boss." He looked at Ducky. He was slumped in his chair, looking unbelievably tired.

Daniel spoke. "I tried to tell him to go home, but he kept refusing. What could I do?" He chuckled quietly and then started coughing. "Who'd have thought that stomach cancer would spread to my lungs so quickly?"

McGee sat down in the chair behind him. Daniel tried to talk more, but after a while had to stop when it became harder for him to breathe. He became slowly more unaware as Ducky spoke less and less. He seemed, for the first time since Tim had met him like he was at a loss for what to say. He held onto his friend's hand until the end.

Gibbs had gone to stand outside the hospital room, feeling like an intruder, but McGee could feel him standing just outside the door.

Daniel went quietly; no gasping for breath, no begging to stay. It was just like he was falling asleep. Ducky said nothing, he only laid his head down on the bed and whispered something. McGee didn't think it was a prayer; he was fairly certain that Ducky didn't believe in that kind of stuff. He was probably just saying goodbye.

McGee stood up and placed a hand on Ducky's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. It was then that he heard a voice near the foot of the bed. "Hello, Tim." McGee looked up and gaped in surprise. It was Daniel, but not the Daniel McGee was introduced almost two weeks ago. He was tall and strong, with a tan face, and a full head of dark hair. He smiled, happily as he looked at McGee.

"Daniel." McGee said. Ducky's head shot up and look in the direction that McGee was staring.

Daniel looked sadly at Ducky. "You will tell him how good he's been to me, won't you?"

McGee nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Daniel smiled again, and took a deep breath, he looked so happy. He said, quietly, but excitedly, "I have to admit, I'm a tad anxious. I've been waiting so long for this moment, but now that it's here…. It's quite exciting." He looked around, his eyes growing wider. McGee followed his gaze. The shapes of other people started to form around them; cloudy at first, but then they became more defined. All the people McGee had felt before surrounded them, all looking at Daniel.

One of them spoke to McGee, a woman. "Thank you for giving our Daniel comfort in his time of need." McGee nodded at her. Another spoke. "Do not fret, my dear. We're here to bring him home."

They began to fade away, but Daniel stayed for a moment. "Thank you, Tim. Goodbye."

In the end, it wasn't like Dianne. Daniel started to fade away in flashes, like cable cutting out. There was no bright light; he flickered for a moment and then finally disappeared. McGee sat back down in his chair, feeling tired. The connection had drained him. Ducky seemed to realize that it was over and laid his head back down. After a moment, McGee went around the bed and leaned down, relaying Daniel's last message. Ducky let out a small sigh, but didn't move from his position.

McGee looked up to find Gibbs staring at the spot at the foot of the bed, shock written all over his face. He was looking right to where Daniel had just disappeared. McGee stepped back around the bed, getting directly into Gibbs' line of sight. He got no response. Had he seen?

* * *

><p>Gibbs stood in the doorway to Daniel's room. It didn't feel like it was his place to watch a stranger die, but he still watched. He passed slowly, but calmly. His eyes just closed. Tim stood and laid his hand on Ducky's shoulder when his head collapsed to the bed.<p>

Then, all of a sudden, Tim looked off to the right. "Daniel." He said, in a soft voice. Gibbs didn't know what to think. He knew what McGee had told him, but accepting it was another story. Ducky raised his head and looked in the direction McGee was facing. Gibbs sincerely hoped that Tim wasn't just hearing voices, but for right now, if it helped Ducky then he would try his best to see it as a blessing.

McGee nodded slightly, stood still for a moment, as if listening, then turned to the left, facing another direction and nodded again. Gibbs could see beads of perspiration forming on the back of his neck. Surely seeing things that weren't there didn't take that much out on a body.

He was about to step in when he saw a flicker at the foot of the bed. He froze. Surely, it was just a reflection of light that glimmered when he moved. He looked harder, trying to figure out just what had a reflective surface in that area, but, standing completely still this time, it happened again. It looked like…. It couldn't be. A shape. A man? The shape flickered once more, then came into focus, only enough to make out a tall humanoid figure looking at McGee. It was fuzzy around the edges and very cloudy, but it was there. It said something to Tim, and then it glanced in his direction. Even with his obstructed view, Gibbs could tell it was smiling. Suddenly, it flickered again and disappeared.

Gibbs could only stare in shock. He couldn't believe that Tim was right. Or if Tim really was just off his rocker, and had somehow infected him with the insanity bug. Well, that sure as hell doesn't sound possible. He continued to stare in the same direction, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He took in a sharp intake of breath and came face to face with a pair of concerned green eyes. McGee appeared to be saying something.

"Boss. Are you alright." He was trying to stay quiet, wary of Ducky, who was still in the background. McGee pushed him lightly out of the door. He guided him past the nurses' station, saying something to the pretty brunette nurse behind the desk. She nodded, wiping her eyes. Before too long he found himself sitting in the uncomfortable chairs that made up the waiting room.

McGee sat down in front of him and placed his hands on Gibbs' knees. "Boss. What did you see?"

Gibbs looked at his agent's long hands for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "I – I'm not sure."

"Gibbs," McGee said a little louder causing him to look him in the face again. His eyebrows rose expectantly, "Was it Daniel?"

Gibbs' lungs stopped working momentarily. He hadn't been so unsure in years. Could this really be happening? Could McGee really see ghosts? Gibbs had been haunted by memories all these years, was it so hard to believe that the real thing could actually be out there? After a minute he nodded.

McGee let out a breath, giving a small knowing smile.

"What the hell are you smirking at?"

"Trust me, I know how you feel." He shook one of Gibbs legs, excitedly. "So what did you see?"

"It was just a figure, a shadow." He didn't really know what to think. The trouble was coming up with the right adjectives to describe it all. Staggering seemed about right. "Do you think I'm…."

Tim seemed thoughtful for a moment. "No," he said. "What I can see is very defined – or – something. Stuff like that happens. Normal people see ghosts sometimes. I don't suppose you've ever watched those ghost hunter shows?" he shook his head. "Yeah, I didn't think so. It's always very vague. Shadowy. It's just easier for me." He gave Gibbs a trivial look. "I know how crazy it seems, but it's true."

Gibbs sighed. McGee didn't lie, not unless he really had to. "Alright, Tim. I guess I believe you." he sat back tiredly. "I don't suppose I have a choice."

* * *

><p>Eventually everybody had to find out why Ducky had been gone for so long. It was rather wonderful the way they all gathered around him, offering words of comfort to the sore heart. McGee hung back, thinking about what he had seen; there were really no words to describe what he felt at seeing Daniel. McGee hadn't thought much about the afterlife, not for years. He didn't really believe in anything; for a time he didn't even think that there was an afterlife, just hoped. But after today… how do you get more proof than that?<p>

He went to sit at his desk, but stopped, noticing Gibbs at his own, staring at the floor. He changed his course and planted himself on Gibbs' desk, facing the man. He had been where Gibbs was before.

"'Are you okay?' Tim asked.

Gibbs seemed to snap out of his reverie, taking a deep breath, almost a yawn. He blinked for a second, and then looked up at McGee, half-smiling. "It's kind of beautiful, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Death. You don't have to deal with the pain of living anymore. You're completely free. Like Daniel." He shook his head and looked back to the floor. "That wasn't living. I'd hate to be trapped in my own body like that." McGee saw him unconsciously rub his left knee.

Damn, McGee thought. He put his hand on Gibbs shoulder. It was kind of a strange role reversal, Gibbs leaning on him, letting out his fears. McGee felt like a kid getting the surprise of his life, figuring out that dads got scared too. He breathed out a laugh as he stood up and went back to his desk.

Tony caught up with McGee in the elevator as they left for the day. "So I guess that's what you've been hiding, huh?"

"That obvious?"

"Uh, yeah." He tapped his own chest in the well-known 'duh' hand sign.

McGee rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Tony. It was Ducky's business to tell."

Tony slapped McGee's back. "Ah, how can I blame you for being trustworthy. What did Gibbs do? Threaten to take away your little techie toys?"

"Ha ha."

"So… does Gibbs know?"

"Yeah."

Tony nodded. "That's good. At least from now on if you get something, it'll be easier for us to get clearance to investigate."

"Yeah, I guess." He was quiet for a moment. He couldn't stop thinking about this morning.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"So. What did you see?"

"Just Daniel. He looked so healthy, and alive. It was… incredible. He was..." he thought back to what Gibbs had said earlier, "free." He took a breath, thinking about something that had crossed his mind a few days before. "Daniel showed me something a couple weeks ago. He used to have a friend like me. He said people like me could sometimes connect to spirits – that's what happened at the crime scene last week – and that even rarer, we might be able to connect to living spirits."

Tony seemed to catch on. "So you want to try that?"

"If you want t—"

"Yes. I still have yet to see—this —" he gestured at McGee as a whole, "up close."

* * *

><p>Tony was intrigued by what McGee had suggested. Intrigued, because most people didn't get the opportunity to explore what truly fascinated mankind. No matter how closed off you acted like you were, everybody wondered about the supernatural. That's why people liked going to see all those scary movies; it was the socially accepted way to show interest.<p>

He looked around his apartment, trying to figure out how this was supposed to go down. He moved the coffee table away from the couch and replaced it with his recliner. He was attempting to determine how dim the light should be when there was a knock on the door. He ran to the door.

"McPsychic! Fancy seeing you here."

McGee stepped past him. "Shut the hell up, DiNozzo." He dropped his coat on the couch. "You ready to do this."

Tony said, jokingly. "Let's get it on."

"Tony."

"Sorry. I'm just trying to be enthusiastic." McGee shook his head. "Come on." He pushed McGee towards the couch. "So, how exactly does this work? Wait—you're gonna be okay, right? You looked a little…faint last time."

McGee shrugged. "That's the most that's ever happened." He sat down on the couch, Tony taking up a position facing him, gesturing expectantly.

McGee narrowed his eyes. "Take my hands." He held them out.

Tony had to fight back an inappropriate comment about not getting foreplay, as McGee rolled his eyes, yet again. "Sorry," he breathed. He took McGee's hands in his own. "What do you see, oh enlightened one?"

McGee snorted quietly. "Damn it, Tony. I can't do this if I can't focus."

"Sorry."

McGee closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gripping Tony's hands a little firmer. Nothing happened for a moment. "McGee?"

"Shut up. Don't distract me."

Tony nodded, even though he knew McGee couldn't see him. He tried to breathe evenly. Perhaps if he was relaxed, it would calm his friend.

Suddenly McGee's hands tightened slightly. Tony looked closer at him. The creases around his eye made themselves clearer as a bead of sweat ran its course along his hairline and towards his jaw. He started to shift his shoulders as if he was uncomfortable, his eyes tightening. After another deep breath, McGee suddenly jolted, clenching Tony's hands tightly, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining with the effort.

Tony was afraid to say anything. "Tim?" he asked weakly. No response. "Tim." A bit stronger. Still nothing. He was absorbed in what he was seeing.

That was when everything went wrong. Quicker than a flash, McGee went limp, and the only thing keeping him falling on the floor was Tony's quick reflexes. He lifted him back up the couch.

"Tim? McGee?" Tony slapped his damp face urgently. Fuck. This isn't supposed to happen. Tim's face was flushed red. Tony felt his forehead, hot as hell. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He jumped up and ran to his kitchen, grabbing a frozen bag of vegetables from the freezer. Hang on, that didn't seem right. He threw the bag on the floor and grabbed a rag from a drawer, running it under the faucet.

He placed it gently on McGee's face, at a loss for what else to do. "Tim, you gotta wake up, man."

Nothing. Shit.

**AN: Thought I'd give you guys something special for my birthday. What's wrong with a little cliffhanger?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Fourteen**

McGee wasn't sure how he got to this place. It wasn't familiar. He was walking down a stark white hallway with too-bright overhead lights. The tile floor was unforgiving as his footsteps echoed around him. He looked at the numbers on the doors as he passed; a hospital. The lights were blinding, but as he glanced out the windows, he could see street lights against a dark backdrop. It was all so surreal; it was as if he were dreaming. He was beginning to think that the place was deserted when a small sniffle behind McGee caused him to jump and turn around. A little boy was walking behind him, rubbing at his eyes with small fists. His brown hair was sticking up at odd angles and his clothes were wrinkled, it appeared as if he had been sleeping.

"Hello," McGee said. The boy didn't look up. "Hey, can you hear me?" Still nothing. The young boy continued on past where Tim had stopped. He seemed to know where he was going, but what struck Tim the most was that the boy was alone. Why would somebody leave a child alone in somewhere as terrifying as a hospital?

Something seemed oddly familiar about the boy, but McGee could place exactly what it was, so he followed him. They walked to the end of the hall, turned left, and the boy turned into a room separated from the hallway only by glass. The nurses' station sat opposite. McGee looked up at the sign above the desk. 'Long Term Care' it read; they couldn't see him either. He turned back to the room. Based on personal experience, he knew the reason for the glass walls was so the care providers could easily keep an eye on the patients.

The boy sat in a chair at the bedside of a frail looking woman. Her hair was scraggly and thin, and she was so reedy looking, it appeared as if a light breeze would just blow her away. Stepped into the room and watched as the little kids still damp hands reached across the sheets and grabbed the woman's thin fingers in his own. The movement woke her up. She turned in the child's direction and said in a weak voice, "Tony, my dear."

McGee gasped. It couldn't be. He walked around to the other side of the bed. "Hi, Mom," he said. It was unbelievable. Now that he knew what he was looking for, the resemblance was unmistakable. The hair, the eyes, the cute little smile he gave as he sat at his… at his mother's deathbed. Suddenly McGee knew exactly what was happening; he was having a vision of Tony's past. Apparently, his experiment had worked, he had connected to Tony on a ridiculously high level.

Tim watched as a small tear escaped little Tony's eye. He furiously wiped it off his face. Typical Tony; it was just like him to try to be strong for everyone, but who was being strong for him. McGee now understood why he was alone, and realized a new hate for Senior.

McGee and little Tony sat for over ten minutes, until, suddenly, Tony's mom took one shuddering breath and closed her eyes. "Mom? Mom." Tony shook her gently, the look in his eyes afraid. His breath started to hitch as his face contorted and he laid his head down. McGee wanted nothing more than to hug Tony, but he knew that trying was futile. Tony couldn't feel him because he wasn't real. He saw movement from outside the room. The nurse sitting at the desk stood up, saw Tony, and came running in the room.

"Oh, Baby. What are you doing in here alone?" she picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck. McGee followed them out and watched as the nurse sat back at her desk and rocked little Tony back and forth as he sobbed.

He thought that the fuzziness in his vision was from his own tears, but even after he wiped them away it continued to get worse. A dull ache began to make itself known at the base of his head and continued to get worse as the vision faded slowly away.

He woke up to water in his eyes and a worried, "Tim?" Tony shook him roughly. "McGee, you have to wake up." The headache was still there, but waning quickly. He groaned, hearing a quiet, "Oh, thank God." Tony laid his head on McGee's chest for a moment and then sat back up and squeezed McGee's arms. "Hey, man. Are you with me?"

McGee grunted the affirmative. He opened his eyes and found Tony staring at him anxiously. "It's okay. I'm alive."

Tony gave a small smile as he helped him into a sitting position. "Do _not_ scare me like that again. Son of a bitch." He ran his hand through his hair. "Are you okay?"

McGee took a shaky breath, and leaned his head back on the couch, lifting his quivering arm up to his damp face. Tony moved to sit next to him. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

McGee attempted to steady his pounding heart. "I'll be fine in a minute."

Tony sat patiently while McGee's body went back to normal. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

McGee nodded. "Yeah."

"So…" Tony said, his knee shaking. "Did you see anything?" He had an excited look on his face, but when he saw the melancholy look McGee gave him, it changed to worry. "What? What's wrong?"

"I saw you and—" he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gather his thoughts. "I saw your mom."

Tony's eyes widened. "You—when—where?"

"In the hospital. It was when she…"

Tony's mouth was hanging slightly open, disbelieving. McGee didn't know what to say, it was obvious that Tony already knew what he saw. "I'm so sorry, Tony."

Tony swallowed. "It—I can't believe you saw that. That was so long ago."

"If it helps any, you were completely adorable."

Tony gave a halfhearted laugh. "Thanks. I think."

"Tony," McGee said. Tony met his gaze. "I—I have something to tell you."

"What?"

McGee took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. "I lost my mom when I was eleven. A car accident, drunk driver." Tony put a hand on McGee's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

Tony shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. So what was it like growing up with just your father?"

McGee smiled. "Very, very strict. Navy, you know."

The next morning, Tony was about three seconds from having Ziva chop his ear off, when Gibbs walked into the squadroom. "Got an anonymous tip about a drug deal at a Marine unit at Norfolk. Get home, pack and meet me back here. We're gonna be there for a while."

The arrival at the base and being set up in a crappy little house on the edge of the base resulted in the mother of all scuffles, resulting in a bruised collar bone for McGee, a near stabbing and some fingerprint marks down the arm for Tony, and a lot of hair pulling for Ziva.

"I call the best room," Tony called.

"Chubby chance."

"Fat."

Ziva looked affronted. "What did you just call me?" she said sticking her finger in his face.

"You heard me."

McGee flinched as Ziva drew a knife from her belt and held it against Tony's jaw. Tony's eyes widened and he swallowed audibly. "I'm sorry. That was… inappropriate." He looked at McGee for help. "Probie. Save me."

McGee cautiously touched Ziva's shoulder. "Ziva he was just trying to correct your expression. Put the knife down."

She continued to glare at him. "He called me fat."

McGee took hold of the arm holding the knife. "He was kidding, Ziva. Let it go."

She finally released, grumbling, turning away and grabbing her bag and heading down the hall to the master bedroom. "Hey," Tony called, chasing after her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Let go of me."

"Ow!"

McGee rolled his eyes and went to break them up again. He arrived in time to catch Tony, who Ziva had pushed, receiving an elbow to the collar bone. He and Tony quickly disentangled themselves to go after Ziva, who had sprinted down the hall and stopped in front of the door. They both stopped behind her and stared.

Tony said, quietly, "Did you see him come in?"

Ziva and McGee both shook their heads, as they watched Gibbs unpacking his overnight bag into the dresser. He turned to them. "What?"

"So," Tony, rubbing his right arm, asked Gibbs as they drove to the C.O.'s office on the base, "what's this tip about?"

Gibbs glanced away from the road for a minute. "Supposedly, a group of Marines from the base are involved with a drug deal with a local gang."

"What kind of involvement?" Ziva asked.

"Distribution."

McGee sighed. He couldn't understand what people got out of selling drugs to kids. Money, unfortunately, was the most common excuse. Planting little drug addict seeds that would keep coming back for more and introducing their friends to the life. He would expect that Marines, of all people, would chose to fight against things like that.

"Guess there's bad seeds everywhere," Tony said from McGee's left side in the back of the car, practically reading his mind. He turned to McGee and Ziva. "Man those druggies freak me out. Liable to do anything."

"Yeah," McGee said, uncomfortable. But he didn't know why.

However, he was drawn from his musings by their arrival at the head office on base. They were escorted into the office by a pair of M.P.s who didn't appear to be very happy about going out of house to solve their problem. "Here we are," the female M.P. said, curtly, opening the door to the outer office.

Tony waited until they left before letting his thoughts out into McGee's ear. "Man, what is it with people and cops. Don't they know we're just trying to help?"McGee shrugged as they walked into Colonel Peterson's office.

The man stood and shook Gibbs' hand. "Agent Gibbs. Thank you for being here. It's been a bad morning."

Gibbs nodded. "I bet. What can you tell me?"

Peterson rubbed his forehead. He lifted a large manila envelope from his desk. "Found this in my mail box early this morning. I've got names, names of some of the sellers from outside the base, and even the times of past deals that went down."

Ziva chimed in. "And you have no idea where this information came from?"

"No, ma'am. The package was sent by mail with a bogus return address. No way to tell who sent it."

Gibbs was looking through the evidence with gloves on. It was a thin spiral notebook, small enough to fit into a back pocket, with handwritten dates, times and names. McGee looked over his shoulder. "The author of this has to be on the inside. There's no other way to have that much information."

Tony looked in on the other side as Gibbs went further back in the ledger. "The book starts about six months ago. Who knows how long it's been going on."

Gibbs nodded and glanced back up at Peterson. "Did you get anything from the Marine's names? Records? Coinciding deployments?"

The C.O. shook his head. "Nothing so far. I did what I could before you got here, but there's a lot of information here. I sure hope you guys can find something, I'll be glad to have this problem off my base."

Gibbs turned to McGee. "Can you get into the bases digital records from our quarters?"

McGee nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, we'll get on it, Colonel." Gibbs shook his hand again and led the way out of the office. "McGee," he said, as they got back into the car, "I want you to find me a pattern in this book. Anything that would be helpful." He started the car. "Tony and Ziva will start investigating the names separately. And quietly."

"What are you gonna do Boss?"

"I'm gonna talk to the local LEOs off base and see what kind of gang we're dealing with."

**AN: I've finally caught up with myself. I am currently working on chapter fifteen. I'll update as soon as I am done. Thanks for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

Back at the house, Tim's search confirmed that all the Marines mentioned, although at different times, all served together. They must have recruited each other when needed. There were eleven in all, two of which had records, only minors as juveniles. Nothing they didn't already expect.

McGee sat back from the computer. He had already relayed his information to Gibbs over the phone. It didn't really give them much to work with. Nothing more than background, and while that was important, McGee didn't really feel like he was contributing much.

Ziva and Tony had been gone for over four hours, as had Gibbs, leaving McGee to fend for himself for dinner. The last time that he had spoken to them, it didn't appear that they were getting anywhere either. This was going to be a slow case, he could tell. He continued his fruitless search through the bases records as he chewed on his tangerine chicken. He had never really liked Chinese food before working for NCIS, but the constant eating out had gotten him used to it.

He took another look through the photographs of the mini notebook. It was fairly straightforward what was going on. They had the evidence to convict, but the problem was that just taking out the low rollers would not cut off the head of the snake, which was the important thing.

Gibbs came back just as he was getting out of the shower. He didn't look happy. "Get anything good, Boss?" he asked, scrubbing his hair with a towel.

He only grunted and slammed his keys on the kitchen table on his way back to his room. "Guess not," McGee said quietly, turning back into the bathroom. Yep, it was going to be a long one alright. He looked into the mirror. He'd slept a lot better than he thought he would last night, considering Daniel died yesterday morning. Unfair as the whole situation was, Daniel had looked happy the very last time he saw him.

Also, his talk with Tony had helped. They were both finding out that they had a lot in common, growing up only with fathers who were completely incapable of showing just the type of emotion that their sons needed. McGee liked the way they were becoming with each other, even if Tony had threatened to pull McGee's spleen out by his throat if he made that closeness known. McGee had to give him credit on the Hitchhiker's Guide reference, even if it just came from the movie.

Unfortunately, Tony and Ziva came up empty as well. When they got in, Tony fell onto the couch and stuck his feet up on the armrest as Ziva stalked into her room, a fowl look on her face. Tony sighed. "It wasn't a good day, Probie. We couldn't ask anybody questions without alerting them that we're onto them, so Ziva had to sex it up." He rolled his eyes. "They still didn't give up anything. She's not very happy." He looked to make sure she wasn't watching. "I have to admit, though, she's still got it."

They both flinched as a throwing knife came out of nowhere, embedding itself in the back of the couch.

* * *

><p>The last thing Tony wanted at the moment was to be woken up in the middle of the night by a Ziva fist to the stomach. He looked over just in time to see her stroking Tim's hair to wake him up on the other bed. Tony sat up. "Hey, why are you being nice to him?"<p>

She looked back at him, an evil look on her face. Tim, who appeared to have woken up, said, "I think she's still mad about last night."

Ziva turned back around to face McGee and said in a soft voice, "There has been a murder."

Tim sat up and began to pull on his boots. "Who?"

"Sergeant Dillon Masterson. He is in the unit we have been investigating."

Tony was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "His name wasn't on the list."

Tim shook his head. "No it wasn't. What—you think he was the snitch."

"It makes the most sense."

"Well," Ziva said, leaving the room, "you should get ready. We are heading out in fifteen minutes."

They both dressed quickly in the room that they were sharing. It was obviously meant to be a room for children, that is, if the two twin size beds were anything to go by. "So," McGee spoke as he reached for his jacket, "what exactly did you do or say to Ziva to make her so mad at you?"

Tony laced up his shoes. "What makes you think it's my fault?" he gave a fake hurt expression.

Tim rolled his eyes and smiled. "Because I know you."

"Yeah, yeah." Tony sighed. "Alright, I may have slapped her on the ass as she walked off. That's not so bad, right."

"Well, it's definitely inappropriate. Especially if she was already feeling uncomfortable about how she had to act."

Damn. "Do you think I should apologize?"

"Hey!" Gibbs yelled from their door. "What the hell are you doing? Fifteen minutes." He stalked off. "And if you don't apologize, I'm gonna lock you in a room together and let her have her revenge."

He stood and took off out of the room, snagging his bag on the way. "Get a move on, Probie!"

The apology didn't go well. She finally accepted his apology, but not before threatening to stab him, yet again. She was really into knives this week. Thankfully, Tim came in before she actually came through on her threat and somehow convinced her that Tony couldn't help the way he acted. God, the man was good at calming angry assassins.

He was still scratching at the spot on his neck where the tip of her knife had rested as he stood surveying the crime scene. Fear memory response. He looked back up to the road, about a ten foot drop and cocked his head to the side. "Does something seem off to anybody?" he asked the scene at large.

They had arrived before the base M.E. McGee had been assigned the task of canvassing the scene, in other words, circle the crime scene and check for evidence. Ziva was collecting evidence closer to the body, and Tony was doing the measuring and sketching. Pretty much drawing an exact picture, showing the distances between objects and how everything was oriented. He looked around. There was no blood in the dirt, no signs of a struggle, although, based on the dried blood covering most of the body and the many abrasions, there should have been at least something. Based on the position the body was in, it looked like the man had been placed there, instead of falling after being stabbed in the chest. There was something was wrong about the whole picture.

McGee stopped next to Tony. "I think I see it. It looks…staged."

"Exactly."

Ziva took a closer look at the body. "You are correct. Lividity has set in, suggesting that the body was in a different position before." she pointed to where the skin was darker because of the blood pooling.

Tony had seen it many times before. When someone dies and the blood stops flowing, gravity begins to pull the blood down where it pools, which is extremely visible. If the body is moved, you can still tell the original position it was in when it died.

"Someone dumped the body," Tim said.

"Well, they didn't do a very good job of it." Tony looked back up at the road.

They all continued with their tasks. Original crime scene or not, evidence could still be present. Gibbs was talking to the two twelve year old boys who had found the body, apparently while riding their bikes where they weren't allowed to go. Only a couple of M.P.s were standing guard on the road, allowing them to focus on their work.

Gibbs came back down. "They didn't see anything. They were just screwing around." He looked around. "Where's McGee?"

Tony glanced to where he had last seen him. "Don't know, Boss. Hey, McGee!" he called. Nothing. It wasn't like him to just disappear, unless…. Tony laid his notebook down and walked towards the trees, catching Ziva's attention. She headed off in another direction.

They searched through the trees for almost two minutes before Tony caught sight of Tim's jacket. He was standing when Tony saw him, but as he got closer, he slid down the back of a tree trunk, eyes staring blankly ahead of him. "Tim!" Tony called, running over to him, Ziva and Gibbs on his tail.

Tony dropped to his knees and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Nothing registered. He was gone; somewhere in the spiritual world.

"Is he okay?" Ziva asked, catching up and kneeling down as well.

Gibbs stood behind them. "Is this what usually happens, Tony?"

Ziva looked frantically between both of them. "What do you mean 'is this what usually happens.' What is wrong with him?"

Tony turned to her. "Look, I know that this may seem hard to understand, but you have to stay calm."

"Stay calm? You cannot be serious." She took McGee's face in her hands, and shook him gently. "Tim? Tim, can you hear me?" she said, wiping the sweat from his hairline.

"He can't hear you, Ziver," Gibbs said, placatingly from above.

She didn't look away. "Why not?"

"He's…" Tony saw him close his eyes, trying to come up with the right words. He sighed. "Tony, you tell her."

Tony caught Ziva by the arm. "Hey, listen. I'm going to tell you something and you have to believe me." She looked at him, fully attentive. "McGee is…psychic."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, disbelieving. "Psychic? Since when?"

"About three months ago, when he was shot. Look, he'll tell you when he wakes up."

At that moment, a groan came from Tim, causing them all to turn back in his direction. He opened his eyes slowly. It took a minute for him to adjust, and when he did, he jumped slightly to find them all around him. He rolled his eyes, and said breathlessly, "So much for not freaking out in front of everybody."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said. "Just tell us what you saw."

McGee took a breath. "Well, we were right about this just being the dump site. I saw where the sergeant was murdered. And the people who did it. They're on the list."

Tony stood up and held out his hand. "That's great, Tim. Now come on, let's get back to the scene, before the guards come looking for us."

Ziva walked on McGee's other side, holding onto his arm, and they all listened as Tim told her, in a very versed fashion, about his gift and his vision about Tony's death, which Gibbs apparently hadn't heard before. It didn't sit well with him. It wasn't a long conversation, but once he was done, Ziva seemed to have no qualms about believing him, even if she was a little upset that it took him so long to tell her. Gibbs on the other hand, was quieter than usual, thinking about the new revelation. Tony didn't envy him, and he knew what he was thinking. Just like Gibbs to blame himself for the death of a coworker before it even happened. Of course, Tony still held out the hope that it wouldn't actually happen. Who said that the future was predetermined?

Tony shook his head violently. He sure as hell wasn't in the mood to think about that meaning of life shit right now. If ever.

After nearly an hour of searching, they finally found the crime scene. It was at an abandoned warehouse on the base—there was always an abandoned warehouse somewhere. It was presumable that someone had found out that Masterson had snitched, told him to meet them here, and killed him. Tony had seen it too many times before. When they arrived, it became apparent that the murder was an act of anger. Blood, poorly cleaned, covered the floor and the walls. Quite a hack job, matching the body currently in the base's coroner's office.

They processed the scene quickly and then McGee left to take the mound of evidence from both crime scenes back to Abby, as Gibbs didn't trust the base "piss-testers"—as he called them—to get good results.

Later, after everybody else had gone to sleep, Tony lay awake, alone in his room, thinking. McGee's premonition about him had him more torn up than he had ever let on. He had had many sleepless nights over it. Not for a while, however, having it brought up again was working on his mind.

After half an hour, he got up and went to the kitchen for something to keep his mind off things and found Ziva perched on the kitchen counter, cross-legged with her back up against the wall. She looked at him. "You could not sleep?"

He sat down on one of the bar stools and laid his head at her feet. He looked up at her, his cheek resting the cool surface. "Would you be able to sleep if you knew you were going to die?"

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the wall, her expression becoming grim. "We are all going to die, Tony."

Tony closed his eyes as well. "I know that. I just didn't think that it would happen so soon." He sighed and sat up. "I've grieved over too many people. I don't want anybody to ever feel that way on my account." He rubbed his eyes. He needed sleep.

Ziva was quiet for a moment. She kept her eyes shut and her body relaxed. If anybody else had seen her there, they would have assumed that she was on her way to falling asleep, but Tony knew better. She was thinking. It was almost like she was meditating—maybe she was. He continued to watch as she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, unsurprised to see him staring. She asked, "Is it not the goal of one's life to leave behind friends that will mourn you after death?"

Tony shrugged, not moving his gaze. "I suppose. But that doesn't mean that I want you to suffer on my behalf."

They sat silent for another minute, not moving and not breaking eye contact, their presence saying more than their mouths ever could. At length, Ziva leaned forward and touched Tony's hand where it rested on the counter. "You need to rest," she said. She disentangled her legs and hopped down beside him. She pulled him out of his seat and began to push him toward his room.

He stopped at the door and she began to walk away." Ziva?" he called, quietly, tentatively. She turned. He felt like a child asking, but… "Can I sleep with you?" He had spent too many sleepless nights alone, thinking and getting himself upset.

She gazed at him for a moment. For a moment, he thought that she was going to say no, but then she nodded and walked down the hall, expecting him to follow.

It was odd. Although, he had slept in the same bed as Ziva before, he never imagined he would be doing it because of this. She pulled down the blanket and allowed him to crawl in first. He mumbled his thanks as he laid his head down on the pillow.

They lay in comfortable silence, but not because they were trying to sleep. After a time, Tony voiced the thoughts running around in his head. "How do you want to die?" he asked.

He felt Ziva shift next to him. He didn't expect her to answer right away, but he especially didn't expect her to move her head to his chest and wrap her arm around his stomach. She spoke into his shirt. "I do not like to think about it."

**AN: Sorry for the long update. Finals. Need I say more. I really am working as hard as I can. You should know that this chapter is somewhat the beginning of the end of the story. Review if you can. It makes me happy!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Gibbs slammed his fists on the conference table in anger, causing Corporal Jonathon Meyer to flinch violently. He tried to keep his eyes on the table as Gibbs lowered his head, getting eye level with the suspect. "I suggest," Gibbs said, quietly, but with a menacing tone, "That you give us what we need. Unless, that is, you want to spend the next twenty years rotting in an eight by five cell."

Meyer shook his head slightly.

Gibbs huffed and stood, brushing past Ziva as he walked to the other side of the room. It had been Gibbs' idea to go after who seemed like the weakest link to the case, an idea that seemed to be working out.

Tony and Tim watched Ziva step away from the wall she was leaning against from the next room. Tim had somehow hacked into the security camera footage and diverted the feed to his laptop…or—something like that. Tony lost track after the heard the words 'multi-system network.' They sat at a table and watched in silence as Ziva stood behind the suspect and leaned in close, her body less than two inches from touching his. She whispered something imperceptible in his ear, causing him to shudder. Nobody said that all Marines were unflappable and Meyer was a great example. He tried to close his body further, but Ziva grabbed his shoulders and pulled his back straight up against the chair, but Meyer's face remained set.

"This is gonna take a while," Tony said, sitting back against his own chair.

Tim sighed in agreement and rested his head on his arms. "This whole case is gonna take a long time. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed again."

"Oh, come on, McSleepy." Tony slapped him on the back. "You know it's been fun sharing a room." He chuckled. "Just be glad you're not sharing with Ziva. You can still hear her snoring from our room." Even though Tim's eyes were closed, Tony could still see them roll as he smiled.

Ziva continued to mentally torture the Corporal. It was only a matter of time before he gave up the information that they wanted and they all knew it. Gibbs paced on the other side of the table waiting for his turn. If intimidation was what you needed, they were a good team.

Tony rubbed his eyes. Gibbs had woken him and Ziva up early to retrieve Meyer from his house before he could leave for work. Tim had been left to sleep because he had driven all night to get the evidence to Abby, but he still had to get up two hours later to witness the questioning. Tony watched him as he snagged Tony's jacket from the table and covered his head. "Warn me when Gibbs comes back," he said.

Tony was going to let him sleep, but a loud sound came, not only from the computer speakers, but resounding through the wall adjoining the two rooms. McGee jumped up, Tony's jacket falling to the floor. He sighed again. "I don't think this is gonna work." He leaned back and scrubbed at his face.

"Bad night?" Tony asked.

"Bad week."

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

Tony nodded. He knew that Tim was taking it hard. Based on what Tim had told him about what he saw, anybody would have pause. "I wish I could have met him. He sounds like an amazing guy."

McGee nodded, closing his eyes. "I think he would have liked you."

Tony smiled. Something had been eating at his mind for a while now as well. He didn't really want to bring Tim in or make him worry more, but…. Well, he was the only on that Tony thought could help. "Can I ask you something?" he asked, quietly

McGee looked over at him, his face growing serious when he saw Tony. "Of course. Are you okay, Tony?"

Tony let out a nervous laugh. "No. I'm gonna die soon, and, quite honestly, I'm a little bit terrified." He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"You don't know that for sure." Tim placed his hand on Tony's shoulder. When Tony didn't look up, Tim leaned in closer. "Hey. Nothing is set in stone," he said in a low voice. "Everyone is going to die at some point."

Tony raised his head and gave a look of 'really?'

He bobbed his head to the side. "Okay, so maybe not the most reassuring thing to say." Tony put his head back down.

Tim took a deep breath, clearly unsure of what to say to comfort Tony. Tony didn't blame him. What could he say? Tony now understood what all those psychologist said about the burden of knowledge; he was obsessing over it, which wasn't a natural thing for him, and it was really starting to freak him out. Death had overcome his thoughts, his dreams, and his random Google searches. He had face death as a career for close to twenty years, been able to cope, but now… now that he knew it was coming for him like an Emily Dickinson poem, he couldn't seem to get away from it. Why, why, why did Tim have to go all psychic on him?

He finally looked back at Tim, whose mouth was agape, trying to form words. Tony reminded himself that Tim's heart was in the right place, and took pity on him. He didn't ask for his gift; it was forced on him as much as the knowledge of how he was going to die was on Tony. "Don't worry about it, man. I'm okay." Liar! he shouted at himself. The skeptical look on Tim's face made Tony wonder whether he could read minds as well.

"Tony, its okay to be scared. I—" he was cut off by none other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs barging into the room. They both stood up.

Gibbs stuck his thumb in the direction of the door. "Come on, let's go."

"What? Why?" Tony looked back at Tim, who shrugged. "Did he break?" he asked their fearless leader.

Gibbs looked at them like they were idiots. "Yeah. Weren't you listening?"

"No."

Gibbs gave them an exasperated look and stalked out of the room, leaving them to scramble to grab their stuff. They watched as Ziva walked past the door, pushing Meyer in front of her, struggling with his handcuffs.

Ziva stood back up against the wall, watching as Gibbs took another turn on the suspect. The false façade he had put up was beginning to crack; it would not be much longer now. She learned her hear back against the wall and closed her eyes calmly while Meyer was distracted. She had no problem with being up early, but she would be glad when the case was over.

She looked back up as the Corporal let out a quiet whimper. Any moment now. Ziva stepped forward and walked around the table and place a hand on Meyer's shoulder, making him flinch. He looked back up to Gibbs.

"What do you say, Marine?" Gibbs said, forcefully.

At the title, the man seemed to snap into action, like Ziva had seen many times before. He sat up straighter, and stared straight ahead. The sense of pride that was drilled into the select few was starting to slip through. Meyer took a deep breath. "Alright," he said, through a clenched jaw. "I want a deal."

"Done." Gibbs clearly wasn't in the mood for nonsense.

He looked up. "Alright, I admit that I was trafficking."

Gibbs nodded. "We know."

He started to hesitate, but at Ziva's touch, he appeared to think better of it. "I'm part of a bigger group—you already know their names." He took another breath. "In two days, the leader of our group, Seth Moore, and the rest, plus the members of the PCs that we've been dealing with are having a meeting off base."

Gibbs sat down, pulling a pad of paper towards him. "When and where?"

Finally, the Corporal began to talk. A warehouse on a public section of Norfolk Harbor was where the meeting would take place. Almost thirty people were to be meeting to negotiate over the price of the cocaine that would also be present.

Ziva looked up at Gibbs when Meyer finished. She patted the Corporal on the shoulder and said, "Well, we appear to have lucked out, haven't we?"

Later that night, Gibbs and Tony both sat t the kitchen island discussing tactics for the raid. She pulled her wet hair up into a high ponytail, having just stepped out of the shower, and snuck past them. She didn't feel like thinking too hard at the moment. The living room only had one occupant; McGee was sitting on one end of the long black fabric couch with his back against one of the arms. He was on his laptop, probably supposed to be going back over the case, but as she looked over his shoulder, all the saw was mahjong. She crept closer and gave the back of his head a tap; he jumped about a foot in the air, and nearly knocked the computer onto the floor.

He quickly composed himself and gave her an evil, but still playful, glare. He placed his feet on the floor, and offered her the spot beside him. She sat, pulling her legs up against her body and watched as McGee continued to play, giving him help when he seemed stuck. The rest of the time, she sat quiet, content in the silence. She allowed her mind to wander, not allowing it to go anywhere near the case. She watched McGee, seeing his eyes focus as he went through his own way of distancing himself from the seriousness of the job.

In trying to think of other things, Ziva's mind went directly to what she had told yesterday. "Why didn't you tell me before, McGee?" she asked, breaking his concentration.

McGee looked over in her direction. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why didn't you tell me that you had the sight?"

McGee furrowed his brow. "What? You mean you've met people like me before?"

"Yes, I have. I have been all over the world and many people, more that one of which had very similar gifts. May I did not make that clear before, but you still—you know you can trust me, right?"

"Of course I know that." He turned down his eyes. "I just—well…. Like I said, the first thing I ever saw was about Tony, so he was the first person I told. And, naturally, I thought that I was going crazy and was scared as hell. I just didn't want anybody else to know." He shut the computer and placed it on the table, and then turned to face her better. "I told Ducky to get him to tell me what was wrong with him and it turns out that the two had more in common than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"Guess I didn't tell you that part yet, huh? Daniel had met quite a few people like me before as well. He taught me how to do something as well. Apparently, a select few of… us can connect to spirits. It doesn't always come from them, although, I think they have to be willing to let me see first."

"You have done this?"

"Once with Daniel and once with Tony."

"Really? What did you see with Tony?"

He hesitated.

"It is personal, yes? Never mind. I would be honored if you would like to try it with me sometime."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He went on to tell her a bit more about his visions. It did not sound very pleasant, but all in all really not that bad—excluding what happened when he passed out at Tony's. Some of the mediums she had met before had a tendency to overplay their visions, for dramatic effect.

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" McGee asked after his story about when Daniel died.

"Why?"

"When I saw Daniel appear, Gibbs saw him as well. Just a shadow, but that's something. That happens a lot, right?"

"Not as often as you might think." Ziva stretched out her arms and stifled a yawn. It wasn't that lat, but it had been an early morning. "Yes, I have seen a ghost. Only once. It was a man that I did not even know. He died in my arms." She thought back to that awful night in Kabul, nearly a decade ago. "I was merely a passerby when a car bomb exploded fifty yards in front of me. Twenty-one people died. I tried to do what I could for the man, but he was beyond hope. He took one last breath and closed his eyes, and when I looked up I saw his face right in front of me."Ziva took a slow breath. "He smiled and then faded away." She looked into McGee's compassionate eyes. He patted her bare foot in a comforting gesture.

She smiled. "It was all very sad, but it gave me a new perspective on what death means." She sighed. "There are too many sad stories to tell, let us get some rest." They both stood. "Goodnight, McGee."

"Night, Ziva." He leaned in and kissed on the cheek and allowed her to go before him, as he retrieved his things from the table.

The past two days were a haze of planning, strategizing and enlisting the help of Norfolk PD's Drug Unit for the takedown of the drug ring marring the city. With as many people that were said to be involved in the illegal activity, they were going to need all the manpower that they could get. Gibbs sat in the driver's seat of the team's agency issued car. McGee was sleeping in the passenger side of the car, his face pressed up against the window, fogging up the glass with each breath. They still had a few hours until the suspects started showing up. And Gibbs figured he would use it; he had stayed up late the night before putting the final preparations for this morning together, even after everyone else had fallen asleep. Two hours before Gibbs had found him face down on the kitchen table, a puddle of drool on the wood. He smiled at the memory as he watched McGee shift in his sleep.

Then his smile faded. It was still hard to wrap his mind around what McGee could now do, even after what he had seen with his own eyes. He had convinced himself for so many years that ghosts didn't exist, but with the proof sitting right beside him, snoring quietly…. How could he deny it?

Out of nowhere, a car came within two feet of swiping the back of their car and Gibbs honked his horn, opened the door and threw a few choice words at the driver. When he got back in the car, McGee was looking around frantically.

"Didn't mean to wake you. Shitty drivers."

McGee looked back to where the car had disappeared. "Oh." He placed a hand on the side f his face that was against the glass and a large red mark was forming. He looked back at Gibbs. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Can't have you goin' in there half-cocked."

"Oh." McGee was clearly still waking up. He rubbed his eyes with his forefingers and looked around. "Anything happening yet?"

"Nope."

Gibbs turned the radio on to fill the silence. There wasn't really much to do but wait and watch from the car. Tony and Ziva sat in another, and thirty other plainclothes detectives and police officers were stationed in various positions around the crowded pier. He glanced over at the electrician's van that held the Kevlar vests that they could grab before going in. It wasn't cold enough that they would be inconspicuous with too much bulk. It made Gibbs nervous, but there was nothing that he could do without risking blowing the entire operation. He did, however, make certain that his team had their vests concealed in their car. Assuming everything went to hell, at least his team would be safe. Although it seemed selfish, recent events had given him quite a new perspective about his friends.

McGee cleared his throat and reached over to turn the radio down. Guess he's got something to say. Gibbs turned to face his agent. "Yes?"

McGee had grown out of his timid phase, and it shone through brightly now. "What do you think about my vision about Tony? You didn't say anything before."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you want me to think? It's not exactly and easy thing to think about."

"Believe me, I know." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. "Ducky said something to me a few weeks ago. Something like, 'I wouldn't have seen it if there was nothing I could do about it. And I think that I agree with him."

Gibbs hadn't thought about it like that. "But what could you do?"

He visibly deflated. "I don't know. Guess I'll just have to do what seems right when the time comes."

"I guess." Gibbs sat back.

"You feel guilty, don't you?"

Gibbs sighed. Damn, the kid was good. He tilted his head back to McGee keeping the back of it pressed against the head rest. "What makes you say that?" he said, almost sarcastically.

McGee seemed to catch on. "Because I know you. You take the blame for things just aren't you fault. It's what you do."

He closed his eyes and faced forward again. He didn't reply, just leaned the seat back and said, "You keep the watch."

Two hours and a lot of fake sleeping later, and Gibbs was feeling no better about the situation. He sat up suddenly; McGee didn't seem to notice, as he was staring intently ahead of him.

"What d'you got?" Gibbs asked.

He pointed, "I recognize that man from the dossier the Drug Unit sent me. He's a low ranking member of the PCs, but he is really good at what he does."

"Which is?"

"He's an enforcer. Looks like he's scouting."

"Anything else?"

He looked around, carefully and shook his head. "No. Not yet."

Gibbs glanced around at the officers. They were al professionals; even thought they had been in position since the early hours of the morning, they still looked fresh.

It was another half hour before McGee pointed out a big player. High enough up in the rank to let them know that the scout hadn't noticed anything. They watched as he disappeared between two buildings, one of which was the location of the meeting. Gibbs and McGee were in front of the other building and Tony and Ziva set in front of the correct one.

"Text Tony and ask if he's seen any others."

He did. A moment later, "Nothing new."

"That's twenty-five."

"We should wait a little longer. We still have ten minutes 'til it starts."

Gibbs nodded. He relayed the information to the LEOs involved. Gibbs wasn't a nervous many but, it he was being completely honest, something about today didn't feel right. There were too many variables to contend with, too many people with guns, and a little more risk than he was comfortable with, considering recent events. He could see the nervousness in McGee as well. It was in the way that kept messing with his scratching at his chin, and the way that his eyes pinched as he looked around with a practiced eye.

Of course, the anticipation was good in their line of work. It gave them a heightened sense of alertness, which was good when your life depended on your quick—

Gunfire suddenly erupted from the warehouse they were watching, sending every armed officer running in that direction. In all the confusion and rushing to get in there to stop the bloodshed, everybody seemed to forget about the vests.

**AN: Finally out of class until next year. Will be updating more often (hopefully). Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten so far. They really mean a LOT!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanatopsis**

**Chapter Seventeen**

McGee ran through the street, in an attempt to get into the warehouse as quickly as possible. Gibbs was in front of him, gun drawn. They met up with Tony and Ziva in front of their car and Gibbs waved to them to follow. They made it in the front door, their cries of, "Federal agents," mixed in with a chorus of, "NPD!"

For a few terrifying seconds, it seemed as if they would have a gunfight on their hands, but when the Marines and gang members looked away from their own battle and saw the massive force of the law, guns trained in their direction, they all seemed to decide that they didn't feel like dying today. McGee watched as they all lowered their weapons and came out of their hiding places with a grateful breath, the first one he had taken in over a minute. A couple of the younger guys who had less to lose tried to put up a fight, attempting to raise their weapons, only to lower them again at the cries of the police as well as the other people on the ground.

McGee stood off to the side, keeping his sig up in case anybody decided that they didn't feel like cooperating and watched as Ziva, Gibbs and plenty of other officers handcuffed the suspects. Tony stood at his side and matched his pose, looking around for any potential trouble. There wasn't much light in the main arena; only sunlight came from the open doors the cops had come in and a few high windows. Tony and McGee were in front of a side door, the light pooling around them.

"Holy shit, that was close," Tony said quietly from beside him, not looking away from his task, even for a second, his body language tense.

McGee nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, not quite ready to relax his own stance.

Gibbs and Ziva had handed off their charges out the front door, where a paddy wagon was waiting, and were standing about twenty yards away talking to some Norfolk cops. McGee and Tony both lowered their weapons when they saw all was clear and watched as the head of the Drug Unit searched through the bags that McGee had seen being carried in earlier with a look on his face that reminded McGee of a kid on Christmas morning. McGee had talked to him before, and knew that he had been after these guys for a while.

Tim's concentration was broken, however, by the sound of a piece of wood hitting the floor right behind him. He and Tony both turned to see a man's back as he hightailed it out the side door and into the alley. Tony shouted as he and McGee took off in pursuit. McGee thought that he heard people following him, but couldn't be sure.

The man was skinny and quick, jumping over obstacles with little effort. No doubt, he had drugs in his system, which gave him an edge. They followed him to the best of their ability, but they didn't seem to be gaining any ground. He sidestepped a few pieces of trash, which Tony and McGee wound up barreling through, kicking it out of the way as they went, only slowing their progress. McGee heard a crash behind him; one of the officers had misstepped and rolled into a trash can. He saw another of them stop to help. McGee and Tony were doing all they could to keep up. A short wooden fence nearly sent McGee toppling, but he managed to land without too much hold up. Another officer wasn't so lucky.

Tony was further ahead of him now, having not looked back check if the officer was okay. They had managed to keep within sight of the suspect, but McGee knew that if they didn't step it up, he would be lost. He didn't feel like explaining to Gibbs that they lost a suspect because they needed to hit the gym a little more often. He took another quick glance back; one officer was still running, but it didn't look like the puffing man would last much longer. McGee put on an extra spurt of speed, at least trying to catch up with Tony, and, as they rounded a corner, were met with a dead end.

The suspect was running around, trying to find a way out, but was having no luck. Somewhere in the back of McGee's mind, something seemed to turn on. Why did this look so familiar?

It was as the man they had been chasing finally turned to face them, a wild look in his eye, that McGee remembered why.

Holy. Shit.

That face, those bloodshot eyes, the semi-automatic Glock pointed in their direction. McGee looked around him. This was it. This was his vision come to life. McGee looked at Tony standing in front of him, gun aimed at the suspect, and raised his as well.

Tony spoke to the man. "Hey, man. We don't want this to go badly any more than you do. We just want to talk."

Holy shit. McGee's breath caught in his throat. The man did not give up, as McGee knew he wouldn't.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Tony demonstrated by lowering his weapon. McGee did not lower his. He was frozen; he could only watch as his vision played out right before his eyes in horrifying Technicolor detail.

The man did not lower his weapon or give any sign that he was going to. His eyes kept shifting from McGee to Tony, as if trying to figure out who to shoot first. He backed up to within ten feet of the too tall fence that was blocking his way back onto the pier. The buildings on either side of them were over three stories and there was nothing on this side of the fence that gave him the option of climbing to the other side. High as he was, he seemed fully conscious of the fact that the only way out was through them.

Tony holstered his weapon and raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Come on, buddy. No one has to get hurt."

The man wiped the sweat off of his forehead with one arm, losing his aim for a second, but quickly realizing and readjusting with an almost panicked look. McGee could do nothing but keep his own weapon trained on him in case he made a sudden move.

Tony took a step to the left, away from McGee. Common move, divvy up the targets, make it harder for the assailant to focus. McGee felt uncomfortable with the situation, but anything that he did to stop Tony from what he was doing would likely get them both shot. Tony took another step, reaching his goal of getting the attention focused solely on him. He spoke again, "You have to realize that there is no way out of this. There's two of us and only one of you." Another step. The gun followed him. "Just lower the weapon, surrender, and nothing bad will happen."

The man took a slight step back to keep Tony within his sights, and said with a shaky voice, "I don't believe you. My boss says to never give up. All cops are liars."

"Your boss, huh?" Another step. "Well, I've got a Boss too. He gets pretty upset when I have to shoot someone. Paperwork, you know. He gets especially mad, when there was no reason for them to die. I mean, what's the worst you can get. A year for possession. That's nothing. And even at that, for cooperating, you'd probably get out on time served." Another step. "Shooting a federal agent, however; that's a felony. Twenty to life, minimum."

The man appeared to consider what Tony was saying. He couldn't fight the logic, after all, no matter how addled his brain was at the moment. McGee took a step to the right, then another. If he could just get behind him…. Tony kept talking.

"I believe you are left with the final choice. Come quietly and help us out, or go to prison for a very, very long time. I hear it's nice this time of year."

McGee took another step, but his careful movement was rewarded with screaming and being able to see clearly down the barrel of the gun. Out of the corner of his eye, McGee could see Tony pull his own back out of the holster, and, keeping it pointed at the ground as not to alarm the jumpy man, walk slowly to stand in front of McGee. "You know it's rude to—" he paused for a moment, his back stiffening. "It's rude to turn away when someone is talking to you."

The man nodded his head at McGee, "Make him put his gun down too."

Tony shook his head, "Can't do that. Against the rules; unless you want to put yours down first." McGee could hear the hesitation in Tony's voice; Tony could handle nervous without it showing through, but it was obvious that he was scared. Did he realize that this was McGee's vision? Did he know that he was about to—

Time was running out. Any second now, Gibbs would be sighted and Tony would be dead. All McGee wanted to do at the moment was run. Run away from the moment that had been torturing him for months. But when in the hell did running ever solve anything? He had to do something for his partner if the ever wanted to see him breathing again. Why did Tony have to be so damn fearless? If he knew that he was about to die, why did keep himself in harm's way. McGee didn't need protection, he did.

"Come on, man. What do you say you give me the gun and we go have a nice little chat? You won't even be in trouble for running." Tony held out his hand, palm up. "No harm, no foul, right?"

Time seemed to suspend as the drug user thought through Tony's request. If he gave up in time, before he saw Gibbs, then everything else could be avoided and Tony wouldn't have to die. But if not—McGee didn't want to think of that possibility. He couldn't just watch his partner of nearly a decade be gunned down right in front of him, knowing that there was something he could have done. Anything—

And he suddenly realized what he had to do. The only thing he could do. A rustle came from behind McGee; Gibbs. He saw the suspect's gaze shift to the last place in the world it should have gone, and pushed Tony to the ground as the suspect shrieked and a multitude of shots rang out. A searing pain registered in his chest and he fell to the ground.

Everything seemed to go silent in that moment—all except for Tony's scream. McGee saw the man who shot him fall from his own wound as his eyes closed of their own will.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Happy Holidays!**

Tony watched as McGee took a couple of steps to the other side of the suspect. He had to keep his attention. "I believe you are left with the final choice. Come quietly and help us out, or go to prison for a very, very long time. I hear it's nice this time of year."

Another step, but this time the man caught the movement and shouted, taking aim at his partner. Damn it. Tony walked back to where he was before, only just a few feet in front of Tim, but not so in the way that he was in the line of two weapons. This is kind of like Pulp Fiction, Tony thought. I am so Samuel L. Jackson.

"You know it's rude to—" Wait.

Pulp Fiction.

Oh no.

He swallowed. "It's rude to turn the other way when someone's talking to you."

The man nodded his head toward Tim. "Make him put his gun down too."

I'm not completely suicidal, you know. "Can't do that." A shiver ran down Tony's spine and chilled him to the core. "Against the rules; unless you want to put yours down first." Tony knew his voice was about two seconds from breaking from the stress he was currently under.

Tony tried to remember what had happened prior to his death in the vision, but all he could seem to focus on was the ending. '_It was too late. You were dead.'_ This could not be happening. Even after all the proof that Tony had seen regarding Tim's visions, he had always been able to hold out hope that maybe it wouldn't come true. Like him knowing about it would create some sort of paradox rendering the whole thing an impossibility.

But wishful thinking aside, there had to be something that he could do to prevent his death. Anything at all. '_It was very Pulp Fiction_,' he recalled. '_He was aiming at me, but you came and stood in the way_.' That's right. Tony was where he was to protect Tim. Any moment now, Gibbs would round a corner and someone would get shot. If Tony wasn't standing exactly where he was, Tim would be his next partner to be lowered into the ground. He was being given the choice of who would live and who would die. Some choice that was; yourself or your best friend. Maybe if he tried a little harder the choice would become irrelevant.

"Come on, man. What do you say you give me the gun and we go have a nice little chat? You won't even be in trouble for running." Tony held out his hand, palm up. "No harm, no foul, right?" Please, God. There has to be some other way, he prayed.

'_He just started shooting… but the only one he hit was you.'_

Some kind of realization flickered in the suspect's eyes. Maybe he_…. 'It was too late.'_

A rustle of trash came from behind them. Tony saw the man's eyes shift. He closed his own.

'_You were dead.'_

A strong arm from behind Tony shoved him hard enough to send him to the ground. Shots were fired, and by the time Tony could turn around, Tim had been hit square in the chest. Hit with the bullet meant for him.

"No!" he yelled as Tim fell, his heart constricting. He scrambled over to his partner. Not this, not again.

Tim wasn't conscious this time and the wound was a lot further inward. "No no no no no," he mumbled.

The sound of footsteps came from behind him and Ziva fell to her knees beside Tim's head. "Ambulance is on the way, Tony." Tim's face was pale and lifeless; blood was spilling out of his mouth at an alarming rate. "Looks like it hit a lung," Ziva said as she checked to see if he was breathing. He wasn't. "There's still a pulse." She started rescue breathing as Tony looked on. It was as if he was frozen. Tim couldn't die, not for him. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work.

More footsteps, and then Gibbs was standing right behind Tony. Tony didn't pay him any attention as he continued to stare at Tim. He could feel other bodies surrounding them as they watched Tim dying. He was raised out of his reverie by Ziva shouting his name. He looked up at her.

"Help me," she said. Her face was drenched in sweat and she was panting hard from struggling to breathe for two people. She attempted to wipe the blood from her mouth, but only succeeded in smearing it across her cheek and into her hair. Tony made quick work of taking off his jacket and trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound. Ziva tilted Tim's head to the side to drain the blood that had filled up his mouth and continued on.

She checked his pulse again as they heard the sirens from far away. He wished they could drive faster; no matter what they did, Tim didn't seem to be getting better. Though, based on where he was shot, this was probably all that they could do for him here. Ziva had to drain the blood from Tim's mouth multiple times; the bleeding didn't seem to be stopping. As they waited for the medics to appear, Tony and Ziva had developed a routine to try and keep Tim alive. Breathe, check pulse, breathe, check pulse, 'Tony, push harder.'

Finally, the ambulance had wound its way through the maze of alleys, led by three officers, two of which were the ones who had attempted to follow them to apprehend the suspects what felt like days ago.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to get and I.V. started, tape on the air mask and whisk Tim away and into the ambulance. Gibbs pushed Tony in after him, before they could close the doors and soon they were flying through the streets to Norfolk General. Tony could do nothing but watch as they packed and did the equivalent of put a Band-Aid on Tim's wound. The only real help he could get would be from surgery.

Tony stared at Tim's face for most of the time. Bright red blood covered most of it. Tony found a box of cleansing wipes on the wall of the vehicle and tried to get the thick liquid to come off. As he focused on his task, completely ignoring what else the medic was doing for his own sanity, he though back to the good times he had had with his friend. He could still remember the first time he had met Tim. It took Tony three tries to remember his name.

'_What was your name again?'_

'_Timothy McGee, sir.'_

'_Right,' Tony said, looking around the cramped office that the man was held up in. 'I'm gonna call you McNeat.'_

'_Sir?'_

'_Cause you're so tidy.' Tony gestured to the room at large. He pointed to the computer screens on the impossibly small desk, going to sit cross-legged on the one in front of the window. 'You any good at those.'_

_McGee gave a half-modest smile. 'Well. Yeah.'_

It was a mere ten minutes before he was bragging about his multiple degrees. But what Tony remembered the most was the question he had asked next.

'_What did you want to be when you grew up?'_

_He shrugged, as if it were obvious. 'This.'_

And, of course, he had quite the appetite for revenge.

"_Hi, there! I'm Beary Smiles! You're my best friend, McGee!__" came a heartless, computerized voice from McGee's computer._

"_Thank you, Beary," said McGee in an antagonizing voice, directed at Tony._

"_You're very welcome!__"_

_McGee had been at it for a while, as soon as he figured out how to input the words. Tony couldn't take it anymore. "__All right, one more time and I'm going to rip that Bear's head off... AGAIN!"_

"_Gear up, DiNozzo! Got a body at Quantico!__"_

"_Don't mess with me!" Tony pointed angrily at the bear._

"_That bear sounds very familiar," Ziva said, smiling._

"_Ya think, David? DiNozzo, bag and tag! David, witness statements! McGee, I ever tell you how brilliant you are?"_

_McGee looked down at the bear affectionately, much to Tony's distaste. "Oh, Beary...__"_

"_I love you, McGee!__" Tony smiled evilly and Ziva widened her eyes and faced her computer._

_McGee looked at them and then turned around, with a terrified look. He typed on his keyboard again, with an embarrassed smile._

"_Sorry, Boss!"_

But, could he blame him really.

_McGee woke suddenly, to find Ziva and Tony standing in front of his desk. "I wasn't sleeping."_

_"We didn't say anything, McGee," _

_He looked at them suspiciously, then around his desk. "But you did something, didn't you? What'd you do? Did you try and put my hand in this water?" _

_Tony attempted to look offended. "That would be a little juvenile." _

_His eyes widened suddenly and he said, "You drew on my face, didn't you? You drew on my face…" he picked up a cd from his desk and studied his reflection in it._

_"No, I actually suggested stripping you naked, putting a tag on your toe and dragging you down to autopsy, so when you woke up you'd think you were dead, but Ziva though it was in poor taste,"_

_"Thank you, Ziva," he said genially. She nodded._

_"I did not agree. Personally, I think there would be a lot of people who'd like to see you naked,"_

And a strangely badly-timed sense of humor.

"_A dead transsexual sailor, his spook instructor and a pair of human eyes walk into a bar, what's the punch line Kate?"_

_Whatever it is, it involves this girl and Paraguay."_

_Tony nodded. "That's true, but not very funny. Probie! Make me laugh!"_

"_Okay," he sat a little straighter." The bartender doesn't believe it so he asks the spook instructor 'what the hell is going on?' And the guy says 'what, guy can't have a drink with his pupils?'"_

McGee had a way of growing on you, pretty much whether you liked it or not.

_"Tim McGee: Small muscles, big brains, heart of a lion."_

"_Remember that urge you were talking about? I went with 'mom'"_

"_You're such an easy mark."  
>"You're such a child."<em>

"_This is different, I'm dying McGee."  
>"You know, the last time you were dying of a horrible disease, you were a little more stoic about the whole thing."<em>

"_I know what you're doing."  
>"I know what you're doing."<br>"What am I doing?"  
>"I don't know."<em>

"_That is a pretty sophisticated grammatical differentiation."__  
><em>_"Don't change the subject with your big words, McNerd.__" _

"_I'm telling you, man, this time I'm dying."  
>"Okay… but… until you are actually dead, can you please help me fix this thing."<em>

"_It takes less than a tenth of a second for the engine of an F-18 to drag a Barkalounger three-hundred feet."_

"_So pirates that weren't really pirates, but were actually Russian sailors, were on a covert mission to steal a Navy research ship that wasn't actually a Navy research ship in order to get back nuclear weapons that we though they didn't think we had retrieved."  
>"Yep."<em>

"_I've got to ask. Did you order a dead body?"_

"_Let's flip for it."  
>"If I flip you, you will get hurt."<em>

"_I've been thinking about buying some tight red leather pants, something that really cradles my butt."_

"_This is breaking and entering."  
>"No, this is breaking and this is entering."<em>

"_Special Agents Tim McGee and Tony DiNozzo."  
>"Very Special Agents."<em>

"_Results come back already?"  
>"I'm pregnant. McGee's gonna be so proud."<em>

_"Why didn't you tell him that that was my idea?"  
>"Tony, a very wise man once told me, 'There is no I in Team.'"<em>

"_Me and McGee watched the sunrise together. It was very Brokeback Mountain."  
>"He had me at 'Howdy'"<em>

Suddenly, Tony was jerked out of his reverie as the heart monitor machine started going off, right as they pulled up in front of the hospital.

"Mike, get back here."

The ambulance stopped abruptly and the back doors were pulled open to bright sunlight. They quickly extracted Tim, taking him to the waiting medical personnel at the open Emergency Room doors.

Tony watched, silently as the doors closed, not quite capable of moving. He let the bloodied rags fall to the floor and placed his head in his hands. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Why couldn't Tim just let it be?

The next thing that Tony remembered was the female paramedic coming back outside to find Tony still sitting in the back of the ambulance, staring at the spot that his partner had vacated. A void in space, just like the void in his soul.

She put a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Come on, babe. Let's get you inside."

He looked up at her, but didn't move. "I guess he's in surgery?"

She nodded, giving a quick worried glance to her partner, who was standing on the ground outside. Tony looked back down. "Why'd he have to do it? It was supposed to be me."

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He took my bullet," he mumbled, but he knew that she could hear him. "It was meant for me. It always was."

The medic sighed and took a hold of his arm, leading him out of the vehicle. Mike offered his hand and helped him to the ground. The took him to the O.R. waiting room, told the nurses that he was to be told immediately if anything happened and sat him on one of the more comfortable looking couches. The woman, who her partner had referred to as Grace, knelt down in front of him.

She spoke clearly, "Your partner, in there, he's a hero. Don't belittle his sacrifice by shutting yourself off. He has absolutely no chance of making it through this if you can't be there for him."

She stood abruptly and left with her own partner, one she herself would probably give her life to save, and left him to his thoughts.

**AN: Let's pretend that reviews are Christmas presents, and spread the joy around. I'd love to hear your thoughts about how you think the story is progressing!**


	19. Chapter 19

Thanatopsis Chapter 19

McGee opened his eyes, only to have them assaulted by the bright sunlight. He blinked, and then looked around; the scene laid out before him was surely one to behold. A multitude of people stood around a scene of pure dread. Gibbs stood off to one side, a stunned look on his face as he stared at the three people in front of him. Ziva and Tony knelt on either side of a man. A tall, lanky man with light brown….

McGee stepped around from behind Ziva and came to a standstill as he came face to face with himself. Ziva tilted his head to the side and he watched blood pour out of his mouth. So much blood. They didn't speak to each other. Tony kept his hands on McGee's chest, and Ziva continued to breathe for him-God, he wasn't breathing-she almost had as much blood on her face as Tony had on his hands. McGee stepped forward and attempted to place his hand on Ziva. She was solid to his touch, but it was clear that she couldn't feel him. She ducked down to give him another breath of air, her braid flopping down above his head, glanced to where Tony's hands were and said, breathlessly, "Tony, push harder!"

Was he dead? That seemed like the only possible explanation for what he was seeing. There was another man about fifteen feet away from where he lay. Two shots to the head. McGee's eyes widened. That was the man from his vision, which was what must have happened. It came true. But… wasn't it supposed to be Tony on the ground? Unless…. Why couldn't he remember? McGee must have found a way to keep Tony from dying; unfortunately, it appeared to have been a choice between the two of them. Of course it had to be a choice.

Sirens sounded in the distance. McGee saw three officers from the mass surrounding them take off towards the street. It would likely take a while for them to navigate their way through the winding alleys that they appeared to be in the middle of. He looked back down at himself. His friends seemed to be fighting a losing battle.

His eyes found their way back to Gibbs. He must know that he set the man off and got him shot. McGee could see it in his eyes. The guilt, the pain. But still an unbelieving side. He thought that it was supposed to be Tony. McGee could almost see an anger in his face as well, likely at himself, but probably at McGee as well.

The paramedics soon arrived and gathered him into the ambulance. Gibbs stepped up and put Tony into the back with McGee's body. McGee hoped against hope that they would make it in time. Even if he was willing to die in place of his friend, he'd still like to avoid it if at all possible. They drove off and he turned back to the scene.

Gibbs was still staring at where the vehicle had disappeared. Ziva was standing, but just barely. Her face had gone an impressive shade of white under all the red, and she was close to hyperventilating. "Gibbs," she said weakly, as she became aware that her knees were shaking. He turned and hurried back to her. The other officers didn't dare stop them as he led her back through the alleys and towards their car. McGee followed.

Ziva seemed to get some of her strength back as they walked, but Gibbs still placed her in the front seat and went to the trunk and grabbed a bottle of water and a old NCIS sweatshirt. He got in next to her and poured half the bottle on one sleeve and proceeded to clean her face. McGee somehow managed to phase through the metal and settle in the back seat as he watched, feeling like an intruder; but where else could he go?

They didn't say a word to each other, but soon, the blood on the sweatshirt was mixed with tears, and Gibbs abandoned his task and held her in his arms as she wept. McGee had a feeling that if he could cry in his current state, he'd be much worse off than she. He hated seeing his friends hurting so much, and to know that it was because of him….

He closed his eyes, but when he opened them, he found himself in a different place. God, this whole spirit thing is disorienting. He appeared to be standing in front of a hospital. It didn't look familiar, but the sign said Norfolk. At first, he didn't realize why he was here, until he noticed the open doors of an ambulance near the emergency entrance. He had a gut feeling that that was where he was supposed to be.

He closed the distance quickly-he wasn't completely sure that he wasn't gliding-and looked in the back. Tony was sitting there, head in his blood covered hands. He looked awful, but he was alive and McGee didn't think that he'd want it any other way. He was whispering things like, "That idiot," and "Why did he have to do that?" and, "It was supposed to be me." McGee understood how helpless Tony was feeling, knowing that there was nothing he could do for his partner, but he knew beyond doubt that he preferred that Tony feel it, rather than him.

McGee got up into the ambulance and tried again to touch his partner. He knew that it would be fruitless, but it hurt to see Tony in so much pain. If he could offer any kind of-well, anything. Tony, unsurprisingly didn't respond to his touch. McGee sat down next to him and stayed still for a while, uncertain of what to do. At length, he spoke, even though he knew he couldn't be heard. "I am so sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to cause you so much pain, but," Tony drew in a long, ragged breath, "but, it was me or you, and I just couldn't let it be you. I think that I was sent that vision, so that I could do exactly what I just did." McGee sighed, and place his ethereal hand on Tony's knee. "And, yes, I know that you think of fate as a completely ridiculous concept, but it's kind of the only word that I can think of for this situation."

A noise from outside the vehicle made both McGee and Tony look up and the female medic that had treated him earlier stepped close to Tony. "Come on, babe. Let's get you inside."

Tony stayed, almost rebelliously, where he was. "He's in surgery, I guess?"

She gave a worried glance at her partner, behind her and nodded.

Tony looked back at the floor. "Why'd he have to do it?" he said, dejectedly. "It was supposed to be me."

The woman looked confused. "What did he do?"

Tony's head fell into his hands again. He said, "He took my bullet. It was meant for me. It always was."

The woman rolled her eyes and pulled Tony up by the arm with a strong grasp. Her partner did not looked surprised by her abruptness, his face only showed respect. Tony, however didn't really seem to notice the way she was handling him. His eyes were downcast as he let her lead him through the corridors of the hospital. McGee wasn't completely sure he was paying attention to where he was being taken.

When they reached the correct floor, they stopped and the male paramedic told the nurses that Tony was the first to know anything. As he turned back, something beeped on his radio. He looked up at his partner, "We gotta hurry back, Grace."

She nodded, and then led Tony into the waiting room and shoved him, none to lightly onto a couch. She dropped to one knee and forced Tony to face her. She pointed meaningfully toward the door. "Your partner, in there," she said, sternly, "he's a hero. Don't belittle his sacrifice by shutting yourself off. He has absolutely no chance of making it through this if you can't be there for him." Tony watched her, eyes wide as she stood and left without another word. He then sat back and closed his eyes, seemingly to try and reign in his emotions.

McGee sat beside him again and mirrored the pose. How he wished he could just close his eyes and have it be yesterday again. Yesterday was a good day. They had everything in the case worked out, the raid was all planned, save for a few minor details, and they had nothing left to do but wait. Tensions were practically nonexistent, and thoughts of the vision weren't hanging quite so low over his head. The calm before the metaphorical storm.

He looked at Tony, who hadn't moved. He had admitted to McGee that he was scared. Something that McGee didn't ever expect to happen, at least not for his own ears. Of course Tony was scared about dying. McGee couldn't have agreed more, at least prior, to his current predicament. It was funny, now that he actually was dead, it didn't seem all that scary. Wait, he wasn't dead, was he? As far as he knew, his body was still alive. So then why was he currently masquerading as a spirit? And if he was dead, would he really even be here anymore? It didn't seem right.

He was suddenly interrupted from his musings as Gibbs and Ziva entered the room, hightailing it over to Tony.

He gave them a deadpan look, which caused the otherwise impenetrable Ziva to cover her mouth in shock. Tony shook his head quickly as if to rid himself of what he was thinking and spoke clearly, "He's in surgery. I haven't heard anything other than that yet." He cleared his throat, roughly and rubbed his hand over his face. "His heart stopped just as we pulled up, but the medics were really fast and I'm pretty sure that we got here in time."

McGee had to jump out of the way before Ziva practically knocked the couch backwards as she jumped into Tony's arms. Tony had told him about Ziva and Abby switching personalities the last time he was shot. Abby…

McGee didn't know if she could handle another one. She'd never been good at dealing with her friends being in danger, but it was the waiting that really killed her. He just hoped that she wouldn't be told until there was news; one way or another.

Tony was holding onto Ziva like a lifeline and Gibbs sat on Tony's right, arm around his Senior Field Agent and hand on Ziva's leg. Huddled together against the uncertainty of having one less to their number. McGee really was touched that his team cared for him so much; in reality, it was a little hard to tell sometimes.

They all sat for a little while longer, enough time for McGee to really start contemplating why he was here. He had taken to speaking to his team, whether they could hear him or not. He tended to solve problems better by saying them out loud. "I think I might have a choice," he said aloud to Ziva, who was now curled up in a chair, hair covering her face. "I mean, that's why I'm here right now. If I _was _dead, then I would be, you know, gone."

If only Ziva knew what was happening right now. She had told him about her first experience with the supernatural, something that she probably didn't tell a lot of people. She said she would be honored to let him try and psychically connect with her, like it was important. She was the only one who wasn't afraid of his gift. In all honesty, he regretted not telling her sooner. He touched her knee and then ran his hand over her hair and in front of her face. He sighed and sat back. Regardless of the fact that she strongly believed in the supernatural, she couldn't see it when it was literally right in front of her face.

The idea of a choice seemed like a legitimate explanation for why he hadn't moved on. But that, however, gave him a little more to think about. "What do you think, Ziver? Should I stay or should I go?"

He moved to Gibbs. "You know, it's funny, of all of your rules to live by, none of them have anything to do with death. Death is a big part of living, you know. The next big adventure." He moved his arms in front of him, as if giving 'The Next Big Adventure.' a title. "Should I really have to-I don't know-wait? When the door is wide open, practically begging me to come through? I have the opportunity of a lifetime here, Boss," he said forcefully, like he was trying to convince him. McGee was sitting horizontally in a chair that was facing Gibbs, his back against an armrest and his feet up on the other. He felt like he was in a therapist's office. None of them talking back just made it seem more realistic, if he were to compare it to the one he had gone to when he was twelve who thought that talking back only hindered the flow. McGee shuddered; those were the worst three weeks of his childhood.

Not that Gibbs would talk back anyway. Their conversation before the raid was clear proof of that. Death wasn't really something that the general population thought about often. It wasn't easy to think about quite that level of unknown. Guilt, on the other hand, came much more easily to Gibbs than talking. He always took the blame for things that he had absolutely no hand in. It made him a great leader, but a weak man. All that on one person's shoulders was enough to break a man-even one such as Gibbs.

And back to Tony. While Ziva and Gibbs had both associated themselves to opposite sides of the room, Tony was the only one who still had yet to move without someone else having to do it for him. Tony wouldn't have been given a choice of whether to live or die. No matter how many times McGee had relived the vision, in his head, in his dreams, each time, Tony was dead on impact. Straight to the heart, gone before he hit the ground.

From what McGee could tell the bullet had missed his own heart, but not by much. Though, even that close, the prognosis was not in his favor. If he did chose to stay, it would take him weeks if not months to fully recover. Was living really worth all that pain?

Tony's face was contorting, more than a couple of emotions could be seen fighting each other. Guilt, fear, anger, worry. Helplessness. McGee sat on the table in front of him and leaned forward. "Turns out death really isn't that bad, Tony. I don't remember the bullet. I don't even remember the last hour." McGee sighed and lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up again, Tony's eyes were closed, and a look of pure sadness had taken over his features. "Do you think I'm being selfish? I don't want to leave you guys, but what if it's just my time? I mean, this is so much bigger than me, and whatever in the hell is out there either thought it would be funny to watch me squirm or figured that I needed to learn something about death. Or living. Or whatever."

McGee got up and sat beside Tony yet again. "I'd ask you what you would chose, but I already know the answer. You may seem childish, and maybe even a little bit self-centered at times, but I don't think that you would leave us in a crisis. Though God knows I've never been as strong as you." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Is it really so bad to want something for myself. I've been giving to other people all my life, isn't death supposed to be some kind of reward?" he asked. "I just don't know what to do. I'm literally at death's door and I'm afraid that if I wait too long that the decision just may be taken out of my hands."

**AN: Yes, I admit, McGee's thoughts are a little bit all over the place, but what do you expect? He's dead.**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: This was supposed to be one really really long chapter, but considering that it was to be the last chapter of the story (minus the epilogue) and the fact that I haven't updated in two weeks, I figured that I would get it out now. So now there will be two more chapters, including the epilogue. **

**Enjoy!**

Thanatopsis Chapter Twenty

Tony buried his face in Ziva's hair and wrapped his arm around her waist. She curled her body around him as silent sobs racked her body. He felt Gibbs sit down beside him and try to give some semblance of comfort to his tea regardless of how much he clearly needed it himself. The strong hands were shaking and Tony could hear him taking calming, yet ragged gulps of air. Nothing could be done, however, for Tony could barely breathe himself. His chest was constricting and the only thing keeping him drawing air into his lungs was the soft scent of Ziva's hair.

The dread hanging in the air around them was palpable, practically crushing Tony alive. He couldn't get Tim's face out of his mind; every time he attempted not to think about him, all he saw was the blood gushing from his mouth. He saw blood seeping from Tim's chest and through his hands. He saw Ziva panting, the red liquid dripping from her lips.

Tony held Ziva until she finally stopped crying, and then let her go as she went to the bathroom to wash up, leaving Tony feeling cold. She came back with a pink face from scrubbing and a few damp hairs still clinging to her face and neck, found a chair, and curled up. Gibbs left for a second and came back with a couple wet wipes for him to clean his hands with. He had completely forgotten that they were still covered in Tim's blood. Gibbs left him to it as well, finding a chair opposite Ziva. Tony threw the trash off to the side and leaned back, eyes closed. Why did Tim have to be so damn self-sacrificing? Didn't he see what he was doing to all of them?

You would have done the same thing, a voice in his head told him. You were about to, and Tim would have been sitting right where you are now and feeling like he didn't do everything he could. Tony sighed. Better that than dead.

They had been sitting for nearly an hour, and yet, there still wasn't any news. Tony was at a loss for what to do. He just couldn't call Abby; not again. She would find out eventually, whether good or bad, but he didn't want to make her worry. God knew she was always about one extra-large Caf-Pow away from a heart attack on a good day.

He took to watching the nurses going about their business though the glass wall of the waiting room. It reminded him of when his mom was sick. How the nurses at that hospital would let him hang out with them when his dad dropped him off to visit his mom as a child. They would let him sit in their laps as they went about their work. He was always supplied with all the chocolate milk he could drink, as long as they were allowed to call him 'baby,' and one particular nurse would always pull out the chess board from the storage closet and play with him when there was nothing else to do.

He was fairly certain that she was the nurse that Tim had seen in his vision. She was the one that held him for two hours after his mother had died. She was also the one that almost took him home with her at the end of her shift when his father didn't come for him after five hours. That was the last time he'd ever seen her. He'd always had a great respect for nurses because of her, but even so, he still hated hospitals. To him, in his profession, hospitals almost always equaled death. And he honestly didn't thing that he could handle another one, not after all he and Tim had been through.

They had been friends for nearly a decade. All the others had come and gone, but Tim had always stayed. Even through all the teasing, tormenting, practical jokes, hazing, hardship, loss, anger, pain, life-and-death situations, fear of tomorrow, missing the past, enjoying the present, and so much fucking more, he was unshakable. Nothing that Tony could ever do could make Tim want to leave.

But now, after all this time, that was precisely what he was trying to do.

Well, Tony wouldn't have it. He stood suddenly, took three long strides to the door, and fought not to run as he made his way down the stairs and outside. He flung a back exit door open and immediately sank to the ground, not caring that he was less than twenty feet from a stinky dumpster and on the dirty pavement.

He took a shaky breath and said, "Tim, if you can hear me and I'm pretty sure that you can... You know I don't have that many friends, not many who stayed anyway. If you leave... I'll be all alone again." Another breath, almost a sob. "I need you.

"Please come back."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Abby's lab: not quite the most appropriate place for quiet contemplation, but McGee could think of no other place to go. He watched her as she hummed along to words that he could not make out as she danced, swinging her hips back and forth. Her eyes were focused on the computer screen as they quickly scanned some complicated chemical equations that he could not even fathom.

McGee stood in the doorway, afraid to go in. If he chose to go, this would be the last time he ever saw her. He closed his eyes. What could he do? Could he really leave them all behind? A machine dinged and Abby squealed. McGee stepped up to look over her shoulder. Just something from the case, not that it mattered anymore.

If he left, he didn't know what would happen to Abby. She didn't handle death very well. He'd seen her at her worst, when Kate died, and Director Shepard. He still remembered the way her arms felt wrapped around him so tight as she cried into his shoulder, and he needed it just as much as she did.

Abby was always so sweet to him, even when nobody else was. And funny too.

_Agent Gibbs looked at him strangely, and then at Abby. "He stay at your place?"_

"_Yup," she said excitedly._

"_You sleep in the coffin, McGee?"_

_Wait, what? "Coffin?" He turned to her. "You said that it was a box sofa bed."_

_Abby looked like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Well... it is!" she said, uncomfortably. "Sort of…"_

_He could believe what he was hearing, how could he not know? "That's why you wouldn't turn the lights on." Oh, God. "I can't believe I just slept in a coffin."_

_A mischievous grin, "…Not just slept."_

Her CD player stopped, and she went to replace the disk. At first, McGee thought that the speakers had busted, for the first couple of notes of the new song sounded like metal grinding against metal, but then she started dancing again and McGee gave her one last look and left for his next destination.

Ducky and Palmer were down in autopsy, as usual, catching up on paperwork, considering there was nothing else to do. Yet. Palmer checked over his shoulder, and then checked his phone, smiling when he got a new message. Likely from Breena. Palmer was a good man, but still one of the strangest people McGee had ever met.

_McGee, Tony and Ziva stepped out of the elevator, and then stopped dead, seeing Jimmy standing in the middle of the bullpen with his shirt off, trying to put ointment on a rather brilliant allergic reaction on his back. _

"_Dear God!" Tony said, horrified. "Someone fed him after midnight."_

"_Jimmy, what happened to you?" Ziva asked, a little concerned, but mostly scared. She stepped around him, avoiding touching him as if he were a leper. _

_Palmer turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of them. "Turns out I am really allergic to henna, but I-I can't reach back there. So do you think you guys could…" he looked at them expectantly, holding out the ointment to them._

_Tony grabbed his bag and ran toward the elevator. "I'm late for a squash game."_

"_I'm sorry. I gotta get the hell out of here," Ziva said, right on Tony's heels._

_Palmer followed them, running right past McGee. "Please, guys!" he said, desperately. "It really itches!"_

"_That's what girlfriends are for!' Tony yelled as he jammed the button for the elevator. _

_He caught up to them. "Yeah, yeah, ok. I can get the top part."_

_Tony held his hands up and attempted to keep him back. "Stay, stay, stay!"_

"_No please! It might be contagious." Ziva said as he followed them into the elevator._

"_I may have to hurt you massively. I may have to hurt you massively!" Ziva was yelling. _

_Tony pointed to Ziva. "She'll do it! She'll do it!"_

"_I would do it for you!" Jimmy pleaded as the doors closed._

"_No you wouldn't!"_

Ducky surreptitiously glanced from his own work and caught sight of Jimmy on his phone. He smiled wider than he had in days, looking back at his own work. Had it only been days since his friend had passed? What would another death do to him right now?

_McGee sat on Ducky's table scratching at his face, which was covered in bright red blemishes. "What I don't understand is how it got all over my face."_

_Ducky was looking him over. "It's the urushiol oil in the plant, McGee. Once it gets on your hands, it spreads to anything it comes in contact with."_

_McGee's eyes widened, "Well... then I have a major problem, Ducky."_

_Ducky raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"_

_McGee swallowed. "When I was out there, I had to... you know…" he floundered, trying to say it without really saying it._

"_No, I don't." _

"_Relieve myself." _

"_Oh," he said, not realizing what was implied, then, "Oh... well, uh, let's take a look, then."_

_McGee's face turned red as he unbuckled his pants. "This is, uh, this is kind of embarrassing…"_

_Ducky rolled his eyes. "I'm a doctor, McGee. I have seen everything there is to see more times than I care to remember." _

_McGee dropped his pants._

_Ducky's eyes widened momentarily, but he didn't try and hide his surprise. "Good lord." "What?" he looked down, horror-struck. "What, is it bad?"_

_Ducky tried to control his expression, and failed. "No, no, it's fine. Nothing to worry about. I didn't expect to see quite so much…" he tilted his head to the side. "Swelling."_

_McGee closed his eyes in horror. "If Tony finds out about this, I'm gonna have to quit."_

"_Well, your secret is safe with me." _

_Somehow, Jimmy chose that exact moment to enter the autopsy suite. "Doctor, I've got the new evaluation forms you req…" he stopped short, first looking to McGee, then down, and then back up again. "I'll come back." he took off, at a pace that told McGee he was trying not to run._

_Ducky looked after him and then turned back to McGee, a slight smile forming on his face. "Him I'm not so sure about."_

McGee smiled at the memories. They may not have been agents, but they still meant as much to him as his real family. God, his family. What would dying do to them? He wondered if they knew yet. Sarah was home for the next two weeks for break. He didn't want to think about how it would affect her. She came to D.C. to go to school to be closer to him. Would she even stay?

Of course, they knew what they were getting into when he told them he wanted to be a cop. His mother had cried, Sarah had threatened him, and his father didn't talk to him for seven years. He couldn't do that to them, could he?

**AN: I'd appreciate reviews, especially constructive criticism considering the story is almost over. Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

McGee 'teleported' back to hospital and sat down back in the waiting room. Nobody had moved since he left. Ziva was still curled up in the chair, and from what he could tell, she appeared to be asleep. The worry lines from before had disappeared, and she had slouched into what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

_Abby was freaking out, almost bouncing in the middle of her lab from the emotion that she was trying to hold inside. "What if those were Gibbs' guts smooshed all over that room?"_

_Ziva rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, Abby, they're not."_

"_What if they were?" Abby practically screamed back at her. _

_Ziva's face took on a contemplative look and said, "The color would be more coffee-brown than red."_

_Abby's face went from concerned to pissed off in about half a second and she raised her hand and slapped Ziva hard across the face. _

_Ziva's eyes widened in anger, and she slapped Abby back, then Abby, then Ziva._

_McGee stood behind the computer terminal, wide-eyed and afraid to move for fear that they would turn their wrath upon him. _

She seemed almost peaceful, in light of the events that had occurred. As tough as Ziva made herself out to be, McGee knew that underneath that hardened exterior, lay a broken spirit in need of repair. But she still had her moments.

_McGee had been pacing around the elevator for the past forty-three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. "Do you see this? Nine hours, 21 minutes!" he shoved his watch in Ziva's face for the third and last time. _

_The look in her eyes said death, and if McGee hadn't been so annoyed with himself, he would have regretted that last action. "Has it been that long?" she grabbed the watch from his hand and slammed it against the wall. _

"_Why did you do that?" McGee said with a raised octave. _

"_Because it was either you or the watch!"_

_McGee, stood back up and continued to pace. "It's just, what's taking so long, you know?"_

"_Look, I'm sure we're not the only ones that need to be rescued. Plus, things could be a lot worse," she took on a calmer tone._

"_Yeah? How's that?"_

"_We could be stuck here with Tony," she whispered._

_Suddenly a very familiar voice came from outside the elevator doors. "I heard that! I find it very interesting that the two of you left together late last night!"_

_Ziva's jaw clenched. "Just ignore him. He's like an annoying bug. Eventually he'll just go away."_

_McGee said, "Ziva, it's been five years. Trust me, he's not going anywhere."_

That had been one hell of a night, trapped in an elevator with an assassin.

"_How was the pawn shop?"  
>"I hit a stone wall."<br>"It's a brick wall."  
>"No, it was a stone wall. I backed up too quickly. "<em>

"_Let's flip for it."  
>"If I flip you, you will get hurt."<em>

"_I wish to improve my computer skills. What do you say, Hacky Sacky." _

"_Lions and spiders and bears, oh, my!" _

"_He is full of salami." _

"_You can't make an omelet without breaking some legs."  
>"You're never making me breakfast." <em>

Of course, some of her more impressive threats included:

"_Someone will die today."_

"_Admit it and I will spare you one of your eyes." _

"_I will kill you eighteen different ways with this paperclip." _

"_I have killed for less." _

"_Touch me and die."_

"_Remove your hand or I'll rip your arm off and beat you with it." _

Gibbs' face was conflicted, but he still had the presence of mind to strategically change chairs to get a better view of the nurses' station so that he would be the first to know when something happened. He had almost the same look in his eyes that he did when Kate had died, except that this time, he was only blaming himself.

_McGee went to leave the bullpen when his exit was blocked by none other than Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "McGee, where are you going?"_

_He was confused. "Uh, Norfolk."_

_Gibbs looked him in the eye. "Well, I got some good news, and some bad news for you. You've just been promoted." He held up a large yellow envelope. "To a full-time field agent."_

_To say the McGee was shocked was an understatement. "Really?" he said, taking the papers. "That's incredible! What's-"_

_Gibbs cut him off by shoving past him and saying, "You belong to me now."_

McGee smiled. That was some of the best news of his life. Not that he didn't regret it a few times, however.

_McGee sat at his desk, still vibrating from his earlier confrontation. "Boss, I told her," he said into the phone. "The Deputy Secretary of State."_

"_Yeah," came Gibbs' tinny voice from the other end of the line. "Did it work?"_

_McGee swallowed uncomfortably. "Well…she submitted a formal complaint to the Director."_

_A pause, then, "McGee... Good job."_

Although Gibbs was indeed a man of few words, he said more than most people were really capable of. He wasn't very good at showing his emotions, but McGee always knew how he felt about them, regardless of how he chose to say it.

"_Something wrong, boss?"  
>"Just admiring your feminine glow."<em>

"_Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness."_

"_Why do you get two 'b's?"  
>"Second 'b's for 'bastard.'"<em>

"_Where's your chair, McGee?"  
>"He doesn't deserve to sit."<em>

"_Come on, McGee, computers are your thing! If I had a thing I'd want to show it off."  
>"There are rules against that, DiNozzo."<em>

"_If either one of those wingnuts disobeys a direct order like that again, I'll kill you myself."_

"_When do you stop looking?"  
>"When you tell me to?"<br>"When you're satisfied, McGee. When you're satisfied." _

And who could forget about the enigma that was Tony. You couldn't go a single day at NCIS without him annoying the hell out of you. The man tended to make quite an impression on everyone that he crossed paths with, whether they liked it or not.

_Kate and McGee walked side by side up to their new crime scene, the sand was shifting underneath their feet. Kate looked up, back at Tony and then said quietly in McGee's ear, "Give him 5 seconds."_

_McGee looked at her, confused. "Until what?"_

_She smiled. "Until he notices there's a ..."_

_But she was cut off abruptly by Tony's exclamation of, "Bikini contest?"_

Kate was probably the only one who really knew how to handle him.

"_Speaking of way beyond hinky..." she said, sidling up to his desk and looking him hard in the eye._

_Tony's eye twitched. "Okay, Kate. I can take it," he said stoically._

_A pure evil look graced her features. "What was it like, tonguing a guy?"_

_Tony took a deep breath and then looked back down, "I can't take it."_

Tony was still sitting on the couch in the same position. Eyes closed, jaw clenched. Very far from relaxed.

_Tony stood on the roof of their car, surveying the crowd of officers waiting for instruction with a steady eye. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "I want a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, doghouse and outhouse in the area. You got that? Good! Now turn off those cameras and get out of the way!" He looked down at McGee giving him a quizzical look and ignoring the imaginary people in his head._

_McGee barely glanced up from the papers in his hand as he stood in front of the engine block of the car. "Accent's still not right."_

"_Damn."_

McGee closed his own eyes and let the memories wash over him.

"_I'm having heart palpitations. You really scared me. Somebody dial 9-1 and wait for me to tell you to dial the last 1"_

"_I hate it when you don't know what you're looking for, but it might kill you if you find it."_

"_This is your friendly, neighborhood stalker, leaving his fourth message of the day."_

"_Ba ba, black sheep. Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, but in order to see it you're gonna need top secret government clearance."_

"_You know, you have to dial 9 to get out of the building, so dial 9-9-1 and wait for me to tell you to dial the last one."_

_"Cascade failure! God, you're good at this, McGee!"_

"_Baldy McBald. Hi, Special Agent Baldy McBald, want to go to Mount Baldy this weekend to do bald things? Bald!"_

"_Nothing says welcome to manhood as perfectly as a skillful lapdance."_

"_You don't trust me to be professional?"  
>"No casting couch."<em>

"_That was Blockbuster. Rosemary's baby. It's overdue."_

"_It's not a party until the bomb squad says it is."_

"_Steady, Probie."  
>"Tell that to my stomach."<br>"Steady, Probie's stomach."_

"_You know I would never drink on a school night."  
>"Where were you last night?"<br>"Drinking."_

"_Very James Bond. Does it tell time too?"_

"_I think you have me confused with somebody far less awesome."_

"_When the going gets tough, the tough go clubbing."_

"_It's just a cute, little rat. Why the irrational fear?"  
>"It's not cute, it's not little, and it's not irrational."<em>

"_I'm a white male between the ages of 18-49 with a loud mouth and a gun. I am the American dream."_

"_Who would want to frame Tony?"  
>"Jack Nicholson? Impersonation retribution<strong>.<strong>"_

"_If I needed to be cheered up, I would've put superglue on McGee's keyboard."  
>"You put superglue on my keyboard!"<em>

"_You're enjoying this aren't you?"  
>"Really a lot."<em>

Suddenly, Tony stood, waking Ziva and jerking Gibbs out of his reverie of internal guilt, and stormed out of the room. McGee looked back at his other two teammates before following Tony. They would be fine for now. Tony went along the hallway, down the stairs and out of a maintenance exit before he finally collapsed on the filthy ground.

He sat there for a minute, shaking miserably and letting a couple tears fall. "Tim," he said in a rough voice, "if you can hear me and I'm pretty sure that you can... You know I don't have that many friends, not many who stayed anyway." He took a deep breath. "If you leave... I'll be all alone again." A sob escaped his throat. "I need you.

"Please come back."

Only about half a minute went by after the heartfelt plea when the shrill ringing of Tony's cell phone pierced the air. He jerked and pulled it out of his pocket, not bothering to check the id. "DiNozzo."

The look on his face went from worried to terrified in an instant as he stumbled to his feet and took off for the stairway again.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Tim McGee had never been a man of God, but as he stood there, staring down at his own body, insanely broken and hooked up to a number of machines trying desperately to keep him alive, he could honestly say that he could never see so clearly. The grace, and a sensation of love that he had never felt the likes of before, descended upon his soul and he smiled.

The way that he felt, along with a quiet voice in his ear told him that the choice whether to live or die had never been under his control.

"_This is life, calling collect, saying, 'Hi, I'm short. Appreciate me.'"_

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Tony skidded to a halt outside the door that Ziva had indicated on the phone and saw her standing at the foot of the bed, holding tightly to the bars. Her voice from the phone call was still echoing in his mind as he stepped forward and grabbed her hand, 'They don't think he will make it,' she had sobbed. Gibbs stood in front of the window, arms crossed and jaw clenched, staring down at Tim's face.

A clear plastic intubator tube protruded from Tim's mouth and his arms were covered in I.V.s, and his face was paler than Tony had ever seen it. Tony reached out to touch Tim's leg, and remembered the last time they had been in such a situation, and the need to be in contact with his friend. Tony closed his eyes, only to have them fly open again at Ziva's gasp.

She was staring at Tim's hand. "It moved," she said. Gibbs stepped away from the window sill, looking hard at the appendage. When it happened again, Ziva all but knocked Tony over in her attempt to get near Tim's face. She gently touched his forehead and brushed her hand over his hair. Tony knew what was happening.

He smiled as he watched Tim finally open his eyes.

**AN: Only the epilogue left….**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanatopsis  
>Epilogue<strong>

McGee lay on the couch in his apartment, eyes closed, arm from his uninjured side behind his head. He breathed in deeply, something he hadn't been able to do for a couple weeks after the incident. He was still a little fuzzy on the details. He remembered chasing the man, and realizing what was happening, but after that he'd had to rely on what Tony had told him to fill in the blanks.

Apparently, he had pushed Tony out of the way and taken the bullet that was meant for him. Was he really that brave?

Tony had barely left his side in the hospital, almost to the point of murderous intent on McGee's part. When the man felt guilty, he didn't know how to shut up.

McGee took in another deep breath, the cold air of his apartment invigorating his lungs. That damn intubator was hell, and they didn't take it out for two days. Not that he wasn't grateful; he knew enough about medicine to know that he couldn't breathe on his own for quite a while after having a punctured lung.

He reveled in the silence of his living room, but that would only last for a little while. The last time he checked his clock, it said o' five hundred, right around the time his colleagues left the office. They had _all _made a habit of coming over to his house and not leaving until he forcefully kicked them out.

About thirty minutes later, the unmistakable knock came. McGee sighed and got up, but he smiled all the same. They may annoy the hell out of him, but he still enjoyed their company. He hadn't even made it to the door before it was thrown open to reveal Ziva on one knee, lock picking tools still in hand. He glared at her and she grinned slyly, "Didn't want to wake you up."

Tony pushed past her. "McGeekle! How's it hanging?" he mussed McGee's hair, causing McGee to have to brush it back down with his fingers. His eye started to twitch as Tony passed him and headed for the kitchen followed by Gibbs, pizzas in hand. I'm gonna kill him, McGee thought.

Ziva went to close the door only to have it pushed open by Abby, who promptly pounced on him. "Timmy!" she hugged him gently, contrasting to how she sounded.

"Hey Abbs. Did you have a good day?" She began to regale him with every last detail of her day as he led her to the couch.

The door was almost closed again when Ducky and Palmer made their way in and Ziva quickly slammed it shut, a slightly angry look on her face, and went to the kitchen.

The night wasn't so bad, actually. At least, this time, they managed to talk about something other than him. Until— "Oh, hey, McGee," Tony stated, ignoring the fact that he still had food in his mouth. "We found the guy that hired those thugs to kill you."

McGee was confused. "What—"

Ziva spoke up. "Four months ago, on the cliff."

"Oh, right." He laughed. "I'd completely forgotten about that. So who was it?"

Tony put down his drink, mouth finally empty. "Those guys you helped put away with all that jetpack stuff you know."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope." Gibbs said. "Victor Tillman managed to find a hit man in his circle of friends in prison. As soon as he got out, he was promised money if he killed you."

McGee was in shock. That was pretty damn obscure.

"Looks like you got one on me, Probie. Nobody's ever hired a hit man from prison to come after me." He smiled, toothily. "I'm so proud of you." That earned him a headslap.

At ten o' clock, McGee had just finished pushing them all out of his apartment, or, at least what he thought was all of them. He jumped when he turned around to find Tony staring at him. "Get out."

Tony just smiled. "I promise I'll leave, but I wanted to ask you something."

McGee raised his eyebrows. It had to be important if he had waited for everyone else to leave. "Alright," he said, going back to the living room.

Tony sat on the chair across from McGee, pulling it up, reminiscent of the way they had been positioned when McGee saw Tony's past, and gave him a serious look.

"What?" McGee asked.

"I've just been wondering…. Have you seen any more spirits since you got shot?"

Oh, that. "No."

Tony's head jutted forward, as if waiting for more. "No?"

McGee shook his head. "No."

Tony narrowed his eyes, unbelieving. Then he nodded slowly. "Sure. Whatever you say, man." He got up, but paused, and looked down a McGee. "You know you can come to me if you need to. I'll believe you no matter what." He smirked. "Learned that the hard way," he almost said to himself. Then he left.

McGee lay back down in the same position he had been in before. He'd probably wind up telling Tony about what happened when he supposedly died, but for right now, he needed some more time to think about it.

One thing, however, was certain. He was glad to be alive.

_fin_

**AN: I really hope you enjoyed my story and thanks to everyone who read, and a special thanks to those who reviewed. Just one more would make quite an end to a story. Even if you've never reviewed before, I'd like to know how you all think the story turned out. Keep being awesome! **


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